Sunday for Family, Saturday for Murder
by LadyMoonSilver
Summary: When the Kumu goes quiet, McGarrett gets worried. Too bad the silence didn't last. As the Five-O team searches for answers, Maggie and Susan solve a fifty-year-old mystery. Once again, this is Five-O moved to the late '90's, mostly because I could and it makes me happy.
1. Chapter 1

**Here is one more reminder I have moved everything to the nineties because I could. The original idea behind Five-O and all the characters that inhabit the Five-O Universe are the property of CBS. I just like playing with them. The original characters are all figments of my very active imagination.**

 **Read and enjoy.**

 **Reviews welcome.**

 **LMS**

 **I forgot to add that the Queen's Quilt is real and on display at Iolani Palace. The Quilt was donated to the Friends of Iolani Palace in 1978 by an anonymous doner. If you ever get to Honalulu, it's a must see.**

 **Chapter One**

O-O-O-O-O

McGarrett sat on the lanai, staring out over the waters of the Pacific, a cup of black Kona coffee growing cold next to his holstered service revolver on the table beside him. Something was brewing; he could feel it in his bones. Everything was too quiet, almost like the calm before the storm.

Since Jimmy Rego's arrest, the _Kumu_ had gone silent. Nothing. Not a word from any snitch on the street, no informers coming forward, not even a shred of gossip from the Coconut Wireless. McGarrett knew, deep in his tarnished cop's soul, that Kapi Pahoa was responsible for the unnatural quiet from Hawaii's home-grown mafia.

And that was annoying the hell out of him. If the _Kumu_ was being nice, it was because they were saving up to be not nice later. Pahoa may have given up Jimmy Rego for Chin's murder, but McGarrett knew he hadn't done it out of civic duty. Rego had pulled the trigger without orders, endangering the entire criminal empire. Pahoa had wanted the heat off the _Kumu_ with the bonus of breaking up an unsuitable romance between Rego and his only daughter. The last word anyone got from the street was Pahoa had called all his people in and had suspended all operations until further notice. _Exactly what I would have done,_ Steve thought, _get the heat off and get rid of the_ _creep_ _my daughter was seeing._

He shuddered involuntarily at the thought of either of his children becoming involved with a low life scum like Jimmy Rego. His son Cooper was a grown man, a Naval Academy graduate and recently promoted to Lieutenant Junior Grade. Cooper was engaged to Sophie Yablanski, a Vassar graduate now attending law school at Georgetown. McGarrett was thankful Cooper had found 'the one' at an early age, _unlike his old man_ , he thought, _took me half a century to find the right woman._

His thoughts turned to Maggie and Tilda. _My ohana_ , he thought, _never thought I'd have one_. He had been a long-distance father with Cooper; doing what little Margo allowed. This time he wasn't going to make the same mistakes. Tilda was a joy to have around. She was extremely intelligent and a good student who made friends easily. _At least she's still a few years from dating and boyfriends, like after she graduates from Annapolis, or after I'm dead. Yeah, that's the ticket. Then she can have all the boyfriends she wants._

He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, listening to the crickets and the soft whisper of waves against the beach. A cool wind was blowing from off the Pacific, bringing with it the scent of salt water and the promise of afternoon rain. He had awakened at just past three from some half-remembered dream and a sharp pain in his hand that felt like someone was driving a spike through his palm. Arthritis, doc had said, aggravated by injuries accumulated over the years. Collateral damage from physical exertion, long hours at the target range, and too many altercations with suspects who didn't have sense enough to know when to quit fighting. He'd choked down a couple of aspirin along with his blood pressure medicine and gone onto the lanai to watch the waves.

Wave watching was turning into thinking.

There was a dirty cop in HPD. Had to be. There was no other way Rego could have known Chin was undercover. He knew the leak hadn't come from Five-O. He knew his people and trusted them implicitly. He also knew the information didn't come from the sheriff's office, as that branch of Oahu law enforcement didn't concern itself with organized crime and Kono had no tolerance for dirty cops. That left only HPD.

Chin had been HPD before transferring to Five-O, as were Duke Lukela and Sandy Welles. People he knew were solid and reliable. Three years earlier Five-O had exposed a group of police officers and politicians eager to do certain 'favors' in exchange for 'campaign contributions'. When the smoke had finally cleared, some two dozen law enforcement officers, elected officials, and government employees found themselves on the wrong side of a sentencing hearing. Even as they were being carted off to various federal prisons, McGarrett had the horrible suspicion they'd only got the stupid ones. The smart ones were still out there and still causing trouble.

McGarrett swore he was going to find them.

He hated lies and half-truths, hidden secrets and cover-ups. He hated politics and the endless time-wasting meetings he was forced to attend. More than once his team had spent months putting together airtight cases against some of the worse criminals imaginable, only to have victory taken from them as one of the many alphabet agencies from the federal government swooped in and 'disappeared' their suspect into the witness relocation program.

Not this time. This time it was personal.

He owed Chin that much.

O-O-O-O-O

Maggie's internal clock, still set for 0 Dark 30, went off at its usual hour. She yawned and stretched, reaching for the husband who wasn't there. Sighing, she got out of bed, slipped into her robe, brushed her teeth, washed her face, ran a comb through her long silver hair, and went in search for the man she loved.

She found him on the lanai, looking out over the ocean, watching the first hint of dawn coloring the sea spray.

"Usually it's the other way around," she said, trying to smile. "You wake up and find me out here. Guess it's my turn now." She stood behind him, gently massaging his neck and shoulders.

"I didn't mean to wake you," he said, relaxing under the touch of her warm and surprisingly strong hands.

"You didn't. It's almost five. One of these days my internal clock is going to reset, and I'll be able to sleep in. Only not this morning. You okay?"

In answer he pulled her into his lap and held her close. "I'm doing better if that's what you mean. Rego's being held without bond for murder one and his two henchmen are charged as accessories. The public defender is trying to get them to agree to life without parole in exchange for guilty pleas and dropping the RICO charges. They're stupid enough to want to go to trial. Neither of those criminal geniuses seems to be aware that capital murder under the RICO statute means federal charges that carry the death penalty."

She held him tighter, inhaling the scent of good soap, sandalwood cologne, with a faint hint of salt spray and gun oil. "I just want this to be over. For you and the rest of the crew, and for our daughter and the rest of Chin's family." She still wasn't used to referring to Tilda as their daughter. "The sooner she sees the men who killed her father put away for good, the sooner she can put this all behind her."

"I know, sweetie. I was thirteen when my father was killed. My life was never the same afterward. I think it's the reason I became a cop, to keep innocent people from getting hurt. Only this time I failed and somewhere on this Island, god help us, the _Kumu_ has its hooks into a cop so deep he sold Chin out. I will not rest until I find them."

Maggie reached up and gently caressed his unshaven cheek. "You didn't fail, no matter what you think. You can only be so many places at once, and I know you won't stop until you find the person responsible for Chin's death. Except you won't be able to do that if you're exhausted. Steve, honey, it's Saturday morning. Let the rest of the crew keep the world safe for democracy for a change. You've been running on reserve energy for weeks. You need to get some real rest. I've missed you, and so has Tilda."

He took her face in his hands and tilted it upward, kissing her softly. "I've missed you, too. I know I'm not spending nearly as much time with you and our little girl as I should be. How about a compromise? Today I'll go in late and get home early and tomorrow will be family day. Church and then whatever you two can think up."

"Is that what you call an offer I can't refuse? It sounds wonderful, only there's one thing it needs to make it perfect," she said, giving him a naughty little smile.

"What would that be?

"Come back to bed with me and I'll show you."

"Woman, you are going to be the death of me!" he said as he slid his hand beneath her pajama top to carress the warm skin beneath.

"Yes, but you'll die happy," she said, giggling as he picked her up and carried her back into the house.

O-O-O-O-O

He had fallen asleep almost immediately afterward. Maggie had tucked the quilts around him, kissed him softly, and headed for the shower. Tilda would be up and ready for breakfast soon.

Maggie finally had the child she had always longed for, a tiny and precocious little girl at that. She did wish the circumstances could have been different. Maggie had loved both Chin and Lin and was devastated when they died. She would have happily continued in her role as Auntie to all the Kelly children, only fate had other ideas.

Chin's will named Maggie and Steve as Tilda's foster parents and the rest of the Five-O and the Honolulu country sheriff as secondary caregivers. Maggie hadn't known about one of Hawaii's most ancient and time-honored traditions of caring for orphaned children or the ones their parents could no longer take care of, regardless of the reason why. These children would be welcomed at the home of anyone who wanted them, staying with friends or relatives until they found a permanent home. Chin had followed the tradition and had given Tilda three sets of parents, one as primary caregivers and two as backups, along with a spare Uncle and Auntie, and in doing so, ensured that his youngest child would always be cared for by people who loved her.

Maggie was getting the ingredients for breakfast out of the pantry when she heard the sound of tiny footsteps on the stairs. Tilda, still in her pajamas and robe and with sleep-tousled hair, ran into the kitchen and threw her arms around Maggie, burying her face in the soft fabric of Maggie's sweatshirt.

"What's wrong, Little One?" Maggie asked, concerned. In the few short weeks that Tilda had been living with them, Maggie had gotten very good at judging the little girl's emotions. She knew Tilda still missed both her parents and now her brothers and sister, as they were living in Taiwan with their widowed auntie. Her entire world had been turned upside down, first with her mother's sudden death, followed all too soon by her father's murder. Maggie was giving serious consideration to having the child see a grief counselor.

"When I woke up I didn't know where I was. I thought I was back home, only there's no one there now." Tilda's eyes were bright with unshed tears.

Maggie held the little girl, stroking her inky black hair as she did. "Tilda, sweetie, after everything that's happened to you in the last two years, waking up and not knowing where you are is understandable and it's not that unusual. It used to happen to me a lot, and I know it's confusing and scary. But it will get better and one day you will realize that awful feeling has gone away. I know mine did."

"What made it stop?" Tilda asked, looking up at Maggie with those black almond shaped eyes. "Did it take a long time to go away?"

Maggie didn't want to tell Tilda that particular nightmare had stuck around from when she had awakened at Walter Reed Hospital after being injured during the Gulf War until after she had been reassigned to Hawaii. Looking back, she couldn't pinpoint exactly when it ended; as far as she could recall, it must have been after her wedding to Steve. "One day it just stopped because I knew I was safe. I knew Steve would never let anything bad happen to me. And the same goes for you, too, Little One. For as long as you live in this house, you will always be safe and secure and loved and when you know that, then the bad feeling of being lost will go away. You're our little girl, and this is your home now, and we love you."

"I love you, Auntie Maggie," Tilda said, trying to smile.

"Can I get in on this?" Steve asked from the doorway. He crossed the room to embrace his wife and daughter.

"How long have you been listening at the doorway?" Maggie asked.

"Long enough to know our little girl had a bad morning." He bent down and picked Tilda up. "You're going to be too big to pick up soon. Are you all better now?"

"Yes, Uncle Steve. I didn't know where I was when I woke up, but Auntie Maggie said that happens a lot, but it will go away because you won't ever let anything bad happen to me."

"That's my girl," he said, putting her down and pouring a cup of coffee. "I don't know about you, but I'm starved. What's for breakfast?"

"Any requests?" Maggie asked.

"Waffles!" Tilda exclaimed. "With strawberries!"

"Belgium waffles coming right up," Maggie said. Tilda loved Belgium waffles and they had become a Saturday morning tradition. "And you, Little One, get washed up and dressed. Breakfast will be ready when you're done and don't forget to brush your teeth!"

After more hugs and kisses, Tilda danced out of the room and up the stairs.

"How's she doing? First, it was nightmares and now this? If I didn't know better, I'd swear our little one was developing a bad case of PTSD." Steve said, frowning a little.

The kettle began whistling. Maggie turned off the burner and poured hot water into a cup. The smell of chamomile tea wafted through the air. "You know, there are more causes of PTSD than being in combat. She woke up and couldn't remember where she was. I told her I use to have the same nightmare, but it went away. Steve, I know she's still grieving for her parents and misses her family. I'm thinking about taking her to see a grief counselor. Do you know any good ones?"

"I'll do better than that. I'll have Dr. Bishop drop by and talk with her. Tilda already knows her and may find it easier to talk to her here, where she's comfortable than in a doctor's office."

"That's a better idea than the one I had if you can get Dr. Bishop to go along with it."

"Martha Bishop has been our go-to shrink for ages. I'll give her a call later today."

"Steve, it's Saturday," Maggie said, handing him a bowl of strawberries. "Some people take Saturday's off. Slice those berries while I mix up the waffle batter, please."

Tilda came back in, wearing leggings and an oversized jumper.

"Breakfast in a few," Maggie said. "Tilda, could you please set the table?"

Tilda got the dishes and juice glasses from the cabinet. Steve smiled, watching her as she put out the plates. She took the flatware from a drawer and laid out each place setting.

"Good job, Little One," Steve said. "You'll be making breakfast for your mom and me before you know it."

Maggie gave Tilda an intense look at Steve's words. She and Steve had agreed to let Tilda determine when the time was right to call them mom and dad instead of auntie and uncle. Tilda was so intent on table setting she didn't seem to notice. Maggie let out a small sigh of relief and went back to waffle making.

Tilda got butter and orange juice from the fridge and put them on the table. "Can I have hot chocolate?" she asked.

"Of course, honey," Maggie said as she started putting waffles on plates. "There's still hot water in the kettle. One hot chocolate, coming up."

Maggie watched as Steve and Tilda dug into their waffles. _I never had the time for this when I was married to Michael,_ the unbidden thought creeping into her mind. _Dinner, yes, and the occasional brunch, but never like this_. She shook her head sadly. "What was that, hon?" she asked Steve.

He frowned a little. He had a feeling his _Little Menehune_ had a mild hearing loss, a not unexpected problem with retired soldiers, or from her habit of playing heavy metal loud enough to wake the dead. "I was asking what you girls had planned for the day?"

"We're going to make another baby quilt for Uncle Danny and Auntie Beverly. This one is going to be in girl colors." Tilda informed him.

"Good idea," he said, trying hard to suppress a grin. Beverly was pregnant with twins. Danny had gone into shock when he found out and had walked around in a daze for the rest of the day. Beverly's last ultrasound had revealed what everyone had been hoping. She was carrying boy/girl twins. "I think Beverly and Danno will like that. Does this mean a trip to the fabric store?" He had gone fabric shopping with Maggie once. That had been enough.

"No," Maggie said. "Not this time. There's tons of stuff in my stash."

"I'm starting my own stash," Tilda said. "It's only fabric and embroidery floss for now, but I just started collecting."

Steve reached over to tousle Tilda's hair. "Someone's going to be needing their own sewing machine soon. Do you think Santa Claus could fit one into his sleigh?"

Before Tilda could answer his phone started ringing. Danno's name popped up on the caller ID.

"McGarrett," he answered.

"Steve, are Maggie and Tilda in the area?"

"Yeah, why? What's going on?"

"Something we need to keep quiet for the moment," Danny said.

Danny heard Steve apologize for interrupting breakfast. He heard the sliding door to the lanai open and the faint sound of the surf.

"Okay, Danno, what's with all the secrecy?"

Danny told him.

"On my way," he said, and ended the call.

He went back into the kitchen, stopping momentarily at the door, watching Maggie and Tilda. Both looked happy.

"Somethings come up," he said, trying to keep his tone light. "I've got to go in. I'll try to be home for dinner." He kissed Tilda goodbye.

Maggie walked with him to the door. "Steve, what's going on? And don't tell me it's nothing, because I know better."

He knew he had to tell her because he wanted her to keep Tilda away from the television and internet. Nor did he want a bunch of reporters camping on their doorstep.

"That was Danno. Rego's dead. They found him hanging in his cell about an hour ago."

"What? Are you sure?"

"Danno knows a corpse when he sees one. Yes, I'm sure and I don't want Tilda finding out from the TV. This evening, when I know more, we can tell her. Until then, no TV and stay at home. I'll have HPD send out a couple of officers to keep the reporters at bay." He reached down and tilted her head back, kissing her softly as he did. "You take care of our little girl. And I will be home for dinner."

She watched him leave, waiting for the sound of the security gate closing before going back into the house.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

O-O-O-O-O

Rego had been held in the VIP section of Honolulu city jail. The entire place had gone on lockdown the minute Rego's body had been found, much to the annoyance of the other prisoners. Saturday's visitation day had been canceled and the inmates were loudly vocalizing their dissatisfaction.

Danny was waiting for him at the front desk. He filled McGarrett in on what little information they had.

"Steve, here's what we have so far. There's a headcount for breakfast every morning at six. The doors are unlocked by remote and the prisoners are required to stand outside their cell for the count. Rego was alive and standing by the cell door at ten minutes after six. The inmates in segregation don't eat with the rest of the prisoners. Their food is brought up to the dayroom at the end of the hall. Rego had breakfast, and at 0700 returned to his cell after another headcount. At 0730 a call came through saying Rego's lawyer was here and needed to speak to him. The guards went to get him and found him hanging. Che and Doc are in there now. Maybe they can find some answers." The elevator stopped, the doors opening to the controlled chaos of a murder investigation.

The jail was built like a military barracks, with an observation station in the center and two wings branching off on either side. The "A" side held inmates awaiting trial or transportation to the state penitentiary. The "B" side was a series of small cells that held one prisoner each. These were the segregation cells for inmates considered to be at risk for retaliation by other inmates or were locked up for high profile or extremely heinous crimes. Rego rated a VIP cell by having _Kumu_ connections and as an alleged cop killer.

Danny escorted McGarrett to Rego's cell. The hallway was crowded with corrections officers, Che's lab techs, and the transport team from the coroner's office. Bergman was in the cell, checking the body, indicating to the photographer what he wanted photographed before he had the body moved. They all moved out of the way to give McGarrett and Danny room enough for a good look.

Rego was on his knees, bent forward slightly at the waist, with his head hanging down. There was a rope around his neck that appeared to be made from a bed sheet, torn into strips and braided. One end of it was attached to the bars of the cell's window. The other end had been knotted into a hangman's noose and looped tightly around Rego's neck.

"What have you got, Doc?" McGarrett asked, frowning. Rego had been a tall man. It took a lot of determination for a man over six feet tall to hang themselves from a bar that was only about five feet from the floor.

"What I have is the body of one James 'Jimmy' Rego, age 30, who appears to have hanged himself from the bars of his cell window."

"You think it was suicide? That he did himself in?" McGarrett asked.

"I didn't say that, Steve. What I said was he _appears_ to have hanged himself. As you can see, the body is in a kneeling position with the head hanging down." Bergman paused, got a handful of Rego's hair, and tilted his face upward. "That is until you get a closer look. Notice anything unusual?"

"His face isn't blue," Danny said. "No bruising or broken veins. As tall as he was it would have taken a while to choke himself to death."

"Notice how his head flops forward? I won't know for sure until I do the autopsy, but as of now, I'm speculating he died from a broken neck," Doc said.

"Could he have done it himself?" McGarrett asked with a raised eyebrow.

Doc gave him a look that indicated a lecture on forensic medicine was about to happen. "The only way he could have broken his own neck would be by getting a running start and hoping for the best. Not enough room for that in here."

"Not a suicide then?"

"I'm calling it death by misadventure for now. Covers a whole lot of bases without saying a thing. If Che's done, I'd like to move the body. The sooner I get him to the morgue, the sooner I can determine what killed him."

Che nodded his assent and went back to dusting every available surface for prints.

"Find anything?" Danny asked.

"Not as many prints as you'd think," Che said. "Rego had a reputation for being a neat freak. Everything in its place and then it had to be just right. As soon as I'm done with the prints, I'm going to pack everything up as evidence."

McGarrett frowned as the body was loaded onto a gurney after the homemade rope was cut to preserve the knots.

"We're looking at a time frame of about 35 minutes from the time Rego returned to his cell until the guards found him hanging," McGarrett said, looking around the spotlessly clean cell with its neatly made bunk.

"I have a gut feeling that when we get to the bottom of this, we're going to find Kapi Pahoa," Danno said.

"Anyone check on Rego's partners in crime? With Rego dead, they're all we have to tie the _Kumu_ to Chin's murder."

"Already taken care of, Steve. They have both been moved to solitary confinement." Rego's partners were being held at the county jail to prevent the three of them from the possible collaboration of their stories. Kono ran a tight ship at the county jail, demanding the prisoners treat each other with respect and keep the place clean. In return, he gave them hot meals made from fresh ingredients. Prisoners usually left county lockup several pounds heavier than when they went in.

"Good work, Danno. I need you to call in Duke and Sandy. Have them pull every file we have on Rego. Find out who Rego's friends are. Anyone who's ever spoken to Rego gets a visit. But first, grab Rego's lawyer and find out what was so important he's calling on Saturday morning."

"You got it," Danny said. "I was wondering that myself. Public defenders are on salary and can't charge for extra hours. Not that Rego could afford it if they did." Rego's assets had been frozen when he was arrested. There were a lot more assets than a low-level thug like Rego should have had, most of it in cash, stashed at the beach house where he was arrested.

"Mendoza is working on his money trail, although I doubt she's going to be able to trace the cash. If Rego was skimming a little off the top, and Pahoa found out, he was as good as dead." Steve already had the warrants to dig into Rego's finances. Rego's public defender had fought to keep Rego's financial records out of the investigation and the warrants hadn't been issued until late Friday afternoon. Mendoza had spent the rest of the day and several hours of overtime downloading the files and bank statements to Five-O's secure computer system.

"Will do. If he was skimming, that would make Pahoa our prime suspect."

"Rego was already on Pahoa's bad side for bringing the heat down on the _Kumu_ when he killed Chin, and I don't think he was happy about Rego seeing his daughter. Add all that up and Pahoa is our prime suspect. I think I'll pay Pahoa a little visit. Just to see his reaction when I tell him Rego's dead." McGarrett still questioned why Pahoa had been so willing to hand over Rego. Pahoa claimed it was because Rego had acted on his own when he killed Chin. McGarrett had been too happy about having Chin's killer behind bars to question Pahoa's motives at the time.

"Want me to go with you? In case you need backup," Danny said.

"I won't need backup, Danno. I don't think Pahoa is going to be too broken up over Rego's demise. One more thing. Check the visitor's logs. Find out if Kini Pahoa was a frequent visitor."

"Pahoa's daughter?"

"She had a thing going with Rego. I get the feeling that Daddy didn't approve. Not that I could blame him. I know I wouldn't want my daughter involved with a creep like Rego."

Danny raised an eyebrow at what McGarrett had said, noting he had called Tilda 'my daughter'. "Mine isn't even here yet and I can assure you the feeling is mutual." The twins weren't due for another eight weeks, just in time for the Christmas holidays.

"Hope you didn't have anything planned for this weekend, Danno. I have a feeling this whole thing is about to blow higher than Kilauea."

"Just more house hunting," Danny said, grimacing. "I am beginning to truly hate realtors." With the impending arrival of twin babies, he and Beverly had spent nearly every day they didn't have to work looking for a larger home. Danny already had several generous offers for his condo that would provide them with an exceptionally large down payment, that is if they could find the right house.

"Good luck with that, Danno," Steve said, patting the younger man on the shoulder. "I'm off to see Pahoa then I'm heading back to the office. When you're done with the Rego's lawyer, call John Manicote and get a warrant for every security tape in this building. Every tape from every camera from the day Rego checked in, until today. I want to know everyone who so much as walked past Rego's cell on the way to the john."

"The lawyer got caught in the lockdown and is waiting in the wardroom. With any luck, he won't invoke client confidentiality in the interest of finding the killer."

"If he does, hold him as a material witness until you can get a writ from a friendly judge. Sweat him if you have to."

Danny nodded as he watched McGarrett walk away. So much for house hunting.

O-O-O-O-O

Maggie and Tilda were in the office/sewing room Steve had added to the house as a wedding present. One wall opened onto the lanai with double sliding glass doors to take advantage of the natural light and the view of the Pacific. The doors were made of bullet resistant glass and featured roll down storm shutters that could be lowered with the press of a button. When she had learned of the new security measures, Maggie had been skeptical at first. Steve, blaming himself for Maggie and Susan being abducted by Big Chicken, had gone a little overboard with the new security system, adding alarms, and having a rock and wrought iron wall, complete with locking security gates, built around the edge of the property. For the first few months the new measures had been in place she felt as if she were back in the desert, inside a secure compound while a war raged around her. After Chin was murdered and Tilda came to live with them, she found herself being grateful for the extra security. She considered any inconvenience caused by the added security well worth the trouble if it kept her little girl safe.

The two of them had a stack of assorted fabrics in various shades of pink, both solid colors, and prints. They had already decided on using a soft blush pink flannel as the quilt backing and were debating fabrics to be used in the quilt top. Tilda held up a piece of baby pink satin paired with a length of velvet two shades darker.

"Can we use these?" she asked. "I like the way they feel, and I think the baby will, too."

Maggie smiled down at the studious little face of her foster daughter. "The way a piece of fabric feels is called the hand. Both satin and velvet have a very nice hand. That piece is polyester satin, which means its washable and will be easy to care for. How about this, we use the satin and velvet between the blocks. If we do a variation of the nine-patch quilt, we can use the satin as horizontal and vertical bands with a square of velvet where the blocks join."

Tilda's face was a picture of intense concentration as she visualized the pattern. "I think that will be very pretty. Now, all we have to do is decide what fabric to use for the blocks." Tilda was rummaging through a plastic tub filled with pink fabric. Most of the fabric had been bought in Europe, some from the PX in Munich and more from the local shops. Maggie had started collecting baby fabrics in both pink and blue before her first two pregnancies had ended in miscarriages. She had held off buying fabric for the third, not wanting to get her hopes up, until she had reached her second trimester and the ultrasound confirmed she was carrying a baby girl. She had admitted she'd gone a little crazy buying pink fabric. Michael had followed her through every fabric shop in Munich, hoping beyond hope that this time everything would work out, and when it hadn't, he'd helped her pack the fabric away and had held her while she cried.

She didn't have time to shop for fabric, that last time. She had had all of six hours of knowing she was going to have Steve's child. If it hadn't been for the card from the doctor's office, a three by five index card printed with their names, an estimated due date, and decorated with teddy bears and balloons, there were times when she would have sworn she had imagined the whole thing. She had no idea what had happened with the card. It had been in her hand when Frank Collins had accosted her. For all she knew it had been blown out to sea by the trade winds, or locked away in an evidence locker somewhere, on the off chance any of the numerous appeals Big Chicken had filed from prison ever came to trial.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the landline ringing.

"Hey, girlfriend!" Susan said. "Duke filled me in on what's going on. Looks like Steve's called out the cavalry. Feel up to some company? I can work on Sophie's quilt while you and Tilda work on the one for Baby Girl."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Maggie said. "We can work on both projects and if we get bored, we can hit the beach." Susan and Maggie were making a traditional Hawaiian wedding quilt for Sophie and Cooper. Duke's mother had taught them the applique technique and had let them copy the patterns that had been passed down through generations of Lukela women. Susan, who had never so much as sewn on a button if she could avoid it, had taken to the project with relish, discovering a talent she didn't know she had.

"Did you ever imagine we'd end up a couple of old retired broads making quilts on a Saturday morning instead of going out finding ways to get in trouble? I'll be there in about half an hour. Duke said to tell you he's got Kanoa at the end of the block to keep the reporters away. He says we can feed him, but not to make him watch chick flicks."

"Geeze, make them watch _Fried Green Tomatoes_ once and you'd think we were planning on throwing them on the grill. Speaking of which, I'll fry some up for lunch. Okay, kiddo. See you in a bit."

Maggie hung up the phone, frowning slightly. Steve was serious about keeping reporters away from Tilda. The Kelly children had been subjected to more reporters and news crews than anyone should have been subjected to during a period of intense grief. Five-O, HPD, and the sheriff's office had done their best to keep the reporters away, Kono having happily tossed a photographer from the _Honolulu Courier_ off the steps of the funeral home and into a rose bush.

The four oldest children had consented to a very short interview a few pre-approved questions on the condition that the younger children be left alone. Most of the reporters had complied. Mark Meyers from channel nine was one of the few exceptions, refusing to take no for an answer until Marine Captain Tim Kelly had promised Meyers the type of retribution that only a squad of pissed off Devil Dogs could inflict.

Meyers had backed off then, only to come back stronger when the notice that Chin's will had been read and probated appeared in the legal section of every paper on Oahu. He had called Five-O's headquarters on a fishing for answers, only to come up against the immovable obstacle that was Jenny Sherman. Meyers claimed he wanted to know who would get custody of the four youngest Kelly children out of concern for their wellbeing. Jenny knew bullshit when she heard it and spent an enjoyable five minutes telling Meyers off using words the rest of the crew had no idea she knew. She had hung up the phone to a round of applause and the hope they had heard the last from Meyers.

No such luck. Meyers seemed to be everywhere. When Tilda had returned to school, Maggie, after a long meeting with the principal, updating contact information, and meeting with Tilda's teachers to collect the work the little girl would need to make up after her long absence, had found a smiling Meyers leaning against her car. Maggie had confirmed that yes, she and Steve had been named as Tilda's foster parents. That much was a matter of public record and available at the courthouse if Meyers felt the urge to pay the fees and go digging through the archives. Tilda, Maggie had told him in the soft drawling voice she had used to put the fear of god into wayward soldiers, was still off-limits to reporters and would remain so until Maggie and Steve deemed otherwise. Meyers, still not getting the hint, had kept up his intrusive questioning even as Maggie took out her phone and called her husband. She had given Meyers the phone at Steve's behest. She didn't know what McGarrett had said, but Meyers had simply handed the phone back and had gotten in his car and left without a word. McGarrett, fed up with Meyers' antics, had called John Manicote. That afternoon Meyers was served with a restraining order requiring he stay at least a thousand yards away from retired Army Sergeant First Class Margret Alden-McGarrett and the minor child Tilda Jade Kelly.

Steve considered the order one of the best ideas he'd ever had. If he didn't want to be bothered by Meyers at a press conference, he'd invite Maggie to attend and smile as Meyers would be forced to leave. The closest Meyers could get to their house was the intersection up the street. Or he could stand in the ocean, just past the breakwater. Meyers was also finding his social life was starting to suffer. Parties, political functions, receptions and events that McGarrett usually had to be practically dragged to by a team of Clydesdales, he now attended willingly, with his _Little Menehune_ on his arm and a mischievous grin on his face as he watched Meyers beating a hasty retreat to avoid violating the restraining order. Maggie told Steve he was having way too much fun.

Maggie smiled at Tilda. "Auntie Susan and Michael will be here soon. Could you get the playpen set up for him?"

Tilda smiled at the prospect of a visit from Michael. After years of being the 'baby' of the crowd, Tilda had happily surrendered the position to Michael. She, at last, had a little brother to dote on the way all her brothers and sisters had doted on her, and in turn, Michael thought Tilda was his personal goddess, granting his wishes and taking care of his every need.

Maggie watched as Tilda got the portable playpen from the hall closet and set it up in the sewing room near the open sliding doors. She had a feeling Tilda was going to become the crews on call babysitter when she was older. Maggie went to the kitchen to put on the kettle. Sewing always seemed to require tea, hot in the morning and iced after lunch.

She heard the soft chime that let her know the front gate had been opened. Maggie had given Susan the alarm codes, as well as the keys to both the gate and the house and Maggie had the keys to Susan and Duke's home. The two women had held each other's keys for years, and neither of their husbands could find a reason for them not to continue the tradition now that they were both retired from the Army.

Maggie hurried to greet Susan, wanting to make sure Susan wouldn't mention Rego.

"I had a feeling you wouldn't want Tilda to know until after Steve had more answers," Susan had said. "The poor child has been through enough! After what that creep put Chin's family though, I am finding it hard to muster up any sympathy for him." She was unstrapping Michael from his car seat as the little boy chanted 'T-da, T-da', his name for Tilda. "Settle, kiddo, here she comes now." Once Michael had learned to walk, he had three speeds; slow for looking at new things that caught his interest, and there were plenty of those, fast because it was big world and he wanted to see as much of it as possible as quickly as possible, and Tilda. As soon as his feet touched the driveway, he was off, running as fast as his chubby little legs would move to greet his goddess.

"T-da!" he said as he caught up with Tilda, throwing his arms around her knees and coming close to knocking her over.

"Slow down, Little Brother," she said as she picked Michael up. Michael wrapped his arms around her neck and gave her a sticky kiss.

Maggie took Michael's baby bag while Susan grabbed her sewing tote. Maggie ushered her guests into the house. She punched the gate codes into the keypad by the door, closing and locking the security gate in case a stray reporter or photographer managed to get past Kanoa.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

O-O-O-O-O

Pahoa's gates were closed. Two guards from Island Security Service were standing guard, one in the pagoda shaped guard shack while the second, with a guard dog on a leash, patrolled the inside of the fence line. McGarrett pulled up to the guard shack and hit the button lowering the SUV's window.

"Tell Kapi Pahoa I need to speak to him," McGarrett said.

"Really?" the guard replied. "Mr. Pahoa didn't say anything about needing to speak to any of the Five-O. You got a warrant?" The guard looked to be in his early twenties and was giving his impersonation of a tough guy attempting to be witty and intimidating at the same time. McGarrett slowly shook his head. He'd seen variations of the same performance hundreds of time. He wished the thugs would update their repertoire with fresh material.

McGarrett had certainly updated his. He took off his sunglasses to glare more effectively at the kid in the little glassed-in booth. The SUV he was driving had been ordered by the former Honolulu county sheriff, who had the vehicles tricked out with all the bells and whistles, including a push bar mounted on a heavy-duty bumper.

"You've got two minutes to get on the phone and tell Mr. Pahoa McGarrett from Five-O needs to see him before I let myself in courtesy of Henry Ford and one hell of a bumper. Starting now." He goosed the gas pedal, revving the engine. The guard was on the phone and had the gates open with thirty seconds to spare.

McGarrett didn't even have to knock. Billy Swan, Pahoa's valet, and majordomo, a tall and extremely fit mixed-race man in his early thirties, was already opening the ornate double doors. Swann kept his hair in a short natural afro and was wearing his usual Hawaiian print shirt and khaki pants. "Mr. Pahoa is waiting for you on the lanai," he said. "If you would follow me, please."

"I know where it is," McGarrett said. Swan opened the sliding glass doors of the living room and escorted McGarrett outside to a small gazebo where Pahoa was sitting with his daughter, Kini.

"Mr. McGarrett," Pahoa said, glaring at the tall detective. "Why are you intruding into my home on this beautiful Saturday morning? You are interrupting brunch with my daughter."

Kini Pahoa was twenty, a petite young woman with silky black hair that fell halfway to her knees, and if McGarrett wasn't mistaken, she wasn't feeling well. Her face was too pale, her eyes puffy with dark circles underneath and with faint red lines tracing across the whites, her untouched breakfast sitting on the table in front of her.

"What a coincidence," McGarrett said, frowning. "I had the same thing happen earlier this morning. Would you like to know why Mr. Pahoa?" He wanted to speak to Pahoa in private, and he was hoping Kini would find an excuse to leave them alone.

Kini was the youngest of Pahoa's four children and his only daughter. McGarrett knew that Pahoa kept the criminal part of his life as far away from his children as possible. It was the one thing about the man McGarrett grudgingly respected. Pahoa may have been the head of the Hawaiian mafia, but against all odds, he was a responsible father and none of his children were part of the _Kuma_. Rumor had it he had told each of his three sons that should he ever find out they were running with the gangs, he'd shoot them himself and save HPD the trouble. They must have taken him at his word because each of them had graduated with honors from Punahou and had gone on to become a doctor, an engineer, and a corporate lawyer with a client list straight out of the Fortune Five Hundred. Kini was the youngest and the only daughter. Pahoa's wife had died from ovarian cancer when Kini was six, and her father and brothers had given her anything she had ever wanted, and despite being treated like a princess, she wasn't spoiled or demanding. Pahoa had done his best to keep the business part of his life separate from his family and had done an excellent job of it until the day Jimmy Rego had turned up.

"Kini, could you give us a few minutes alone, please? I know you are not feeling well. Go lie down. I'll have Billy Swann bring you a cup of tea."

Kini nodded, silently kissing her father on the cheek while glaring at McGarrett. As she turned to leave, he got a good look at the curve of her abdomen. Kini was either putting on weight, or she was pregnant.

Pahoa waited until the doors to the lanai had been shut. "Why are you here, McGarrett? What is so urgent it couldn't wait until Monday?"

Either Pahoa didn't know Rego was dead, or he was putting on an Oscar-winning performance. McGarrett decided not to share Doc Bergman's preliminary findings with the head of the _Kuma_. As far as Pahoa was concerned, Rego was a suicide.

"Rego's dead," he said, bluntly. "The guards found him hanging in his cell this morning, from an apparent suicide."

Pahoa took a sip of coffee. _He's stalling_ , McGarrett thought.

"I would be lying if I told you I am sorry he is dead because I am not," Pahoa said, frowning. "Coffee, Mr. McGarrett? It's blue label Kona."

"No, thank you," he said. "Do you have any idea why he'd want to kill himself?"

"Not the vaguest idea. Rego ceased to be of any concern to me when he killed Chin Ho Kelly. The only reason I tolerated him for as long as I did was my daughter had feelings for him. I knew Rego would prove to be untrustworthy, and I was right. He came into my home, into my daughter's life, and created chaos for everyone around him. I thought that if he were in prison, my daughter would see the kind of man he is, or should I say was? Kini is my only daughter. I wanted more for her than a disrespectful upstart like Rego."

"I can understand the sentiment," McGarrett said. He caught a swift movement from one of the upstairs windows. He could have sworn he saw the curtains of one of the rooms twitch back. "However, it does little to explain why Rego decided to take his own life."

Pahoa wouldn't be the head of Hawaii's home-grown mafia if he were easily rattled. McGarrett thought he was acting way to detached from the news of Rego's sudden demise. "His death is fortuitous; however, it will only add to the hurt Rego has already inflicted. Rumor from the coconut wireless informs me you and your wife are fostering Chin Ho's youngest daughter. I am truly sorry for what Rego put his family through. When you have children, you want to protect them. Unfortunately, there are some things parents are powerless against, and one of those is having your child make an unsuitable match. Most of Rego's family live in San Francisco. I will have Billy Swann call and make the necessary arrangements for the funeral, for my daughter's sake."

"We'll release the body when the autopsy is done and not a second sooner. But that does not answer my question. Why do you suppose Rego would want to kill himself? Or why Rego's public defender wanted to see him this morning? Most PD's don't work on Saturday."

"I have no idea. Maybe Rego had made a will in preparation for the suicide. I do not know."

"Do you know anything about Rego's state of mind? Was he being threatened? Or was he distressed because he was looking at life in prison with no chance of parole?"

Pahoa shook his head. "I haven't spoken to him since the day you arrested him for murder. One of the witnesses said that for a few seconds he thought you were going to put a bullet through Rego's head. Maybe you would have saved us both a lot of trouble if you had."

McGarrett gave an involuntary shudder, remembering the day Five-O and HPD had tracked Rego down at the beach house he was renting. Kini had told her father Rego had rented the house because it was the only place they could have any privacy. McGarrett translated 'privacy' to 'sex' and wondered if Pahoa knew about the wild parties featuring strippers and prostitutes on those nights when Rego would tell Kini he was working late and wouldn't be able to see her.

"That's not how it works, Pahoa, and you know it. I'm thankful that I came to my senses before I did something irrevocably stupid."

"Irrevocably stupid," Pahoa repeated. "That's Rego in a coconut shell. But for your information, Rego was declared _kapu,_ untouchable, to the _Kumu._ No one with ties to the _Kumu_ would have anything to do with him, and that included killing him. He may have been born here, but, as you well know, he had been living on the Mainland since he was six. He had Island blood, but he didn't have Island heart. Now if you will excuse me, Mr. McGarrett, I must inform my daughter Rego is dead. Billy Swann will show you the way out."

McGarrett had been to Pahoa's house so often he didn't need an escort to find his way out, but it did give him a brief time alone with Billy Swann without Pahoa's supervision.

"I know you were listening, Mr. Swann. I know you know Rego's dead. Can you think of any reason why he'd want to kill himself? Other than he was terrified of your boss."

"Don't know. I never liked the man. He's a coward and I don't like the way he treated Miss Kini. Besides, I heard it was you he needed to be afraid of, Mr. McGarrett, not Mr. Pahoa."

McGarrett raised an eyebrow. "Would you care to elaborate on that, Mr. Swann?"

"Would you have a warrant in your pocket, Mr. McGarrett?" Swann said, smiling.

"It's a pity you decided to be a criminal, Mr. Swann. You would have made a damn good cop. I'll see myself out."

McGarrett got back in his SUV to leave. The only thing McGarrett took away from the meeting was the feeling Pahoa wasn't telling him everything. He thought of the curtain in one of the upstairs rooms being twitched back, giving him a brief glance of inky black Polynesian hair.

Did Kini know her father had had Rego declared _Kapu_ , and why would Kini Pahoa be interested in a conversation between McGarrett and her father?

Unless she knew more than she was telling.

O-O-O-O-O

Danny sat across the table from Rego's PD. Jeffry Clement was fresh out of law school and had a baby face that would have him looking nineteen until he was well into his forties. Danny read him his rights, even though he wasn't under arrest. The tape machines and CCTV were both whirling, and Danny wanted it read into the record Clement had been Mirandized. The last thing he wanted was for evidence to be thrown out of court on a technicality. Danny could tell by the young lawyer's reaction the news of Rego's sudden demise came as a shock. Danny passed the man a bottle of cold water and got the interview started.

"Mr. Clement," Danny began. "I know the public defender's office isn't open on the weekends and don't visit clients on Saturday unless it's urgent. You were here to see James "Jimmy" Rego, now deceased. We want to know why."

Clement wasn't going to last five minutes in court, Danny decided. The man was already sweating bullets and loosening his tie. John Manicote would have had the kid crying for his mama before a jury could be empaneled.

Clement tried to recall if this morning's errand could be considered confidential, considering he never got to meet with his client. _Screw it,_ he thought, _I've already been paid, and it was a fool's errand to start with._

"I had some paperwork that required Mr. Rego's signature. Today seemed like as good a time as any."

"What type of paperwork?" Danny asked.

"The type you need a writ from a judge to see. Look, Mr. Williams, I don't have a problem with Five-O or the DA, or HPD. I've got student loans to pay and I am not going to lose my job over a bunch a paper. I will sit here voluntarily until the writ is delivered and then I will happily explain what each and every bit of the paperwork means. But not until you get a subpoena. It's called CYA and considering the players in this little drama, I'm making sure mine is well covered."

Danny couldn't blame the kid for wanting all his bases covered, especially when dealing with the _Kumu_. "Very well, Mr. Clement. I'll get the writ. You just sit tight."

There was a knock at the door. Duke Lukela stuck his head in and asked Danny to step outside.

"We have a problem," Duke said when Danny joined him in the hallway. "I had the lab pull all the camera footage from the corridor by Rego's cell. Doesn't show a thing. Just an empty hallway. Not a single thing from midnight last night until the tape was pulled this morning."

"Nothing?" Danny asked.

"Nothing as in not a thing. Just the empty corridor. Doesn't show the prisoners standing by their cell door for headcount or in line for breakfast, no guards making their rounds, nothing. Che's having copies of the surveillance footage brought to the lab. He thinks someone hacked into the system, and he's got Mendoza going through the computers. If anyone can find out how the system was hacked, she'll be the one to do it."

"Inside job, maybe? I suspect there's a list of people who wanted Rego dead, all we have to do is find the right one."

"That might be a lot easier than you think," Duke said, holding out the visitation log. He pointed to the name of a visitor who had signed in at 1545 the previous Thursday.

"I'll be damned," Danny said. "This changes everything. Get a warrant to get into that lawyer's briefcase. Take him to Iolani and put him in an interview room until you get it. He's cooperating but I don't want him wandering around the Island until we know why he was visiting Rego this morning. I'll meet you back to the office. Steve's going to want to see this as soon as possible."

O-O-O-O-O

Beverly Williams couldn't have been more uncomfortable if she had tried. She was the last trimester of a twin pregnancy. She felt fat and clumsy and swore she hadn't seen her own feet since August. Her back and feet ached, her fingers were so swollen she couldn't get her wedding ring on, and whoever had designed the Navy's new maternity uniforms had obviously never been pregnant with one child, let along two. In short, she was miserable and exhausted and tired of looking for houses she and Danny both liked and could afford. She had a copy of the Oahu Realtors Guide with likely homes circled in her bag. The house she was searching for had only been put back on the market that week. The home had been listed earlier as a rental property. The owner, tiring of having to pay for repairs when his tenants took off, had given up in disgust and listed the property for sale. The ad said three bedrooms, two and a half baths, office, large open floor plan, and steps from the beach. The price had to have been a misprint.

Marge Clayton sat in the shade of a golf umbrella at a small table holding brochures telling about the home's amenities and the rates offered by various lenders. There was an Igloo cooler by her feet containing soft drinks, bottled water, tea, and fruit juice, and because this was Marge, a bottle of Bombay Gin. She watched with interest as a very pregnant redhead exited a Hyundai Santa Fe and waddled across the lawn to the table.

"Honey, sit, please!" Marge said in a voice husky from years of cigarettes and booze. She was pointing to a pair of lawn chairs near the table. "You look like you're about ready to pop! Can I get you something to drink?"

Marge was busily sizing up her client. Nice dress, an Authentic Polynesian Mumu, not one mass marketed for the tourist trade either, nice shoes, decent car. No jewelry except for two pairs of diamond studs in her double pierced ears and a simple jade bracelet, understated and expensive. She had a French manicure on her fingernails and her toenails were polished a dark red, almost matching her hair, done in a no-nonsense pixie cut. It was a game she played to keep her observation skills honed. Marge had been around enough fake glitter and glitz to know the real thing when she saw it and she was willing to bet Navy or Marine officers wife.

"No thanks," Beverly said, trying to sit as gracefully as her swollen belly would allow. "These two keep taking turns bouncing off my bladder. I take it this house is still on the market. If it is, I'd like to look around."

"Two? Are you having twins? Congratulations. You will love this house. Big yard, close to the beach, three bedrooms, two and a half baths. Large master suite with its own bath, complete with a Jacuzzi tub and separate shower. It could be four bedrooms except the people who were renting the place turned one of the rooms into a media center. I think most of that has been removed but you can never tell. The place does need a little work, but it's mostly cosmetic, and between you and me, the carpet is hideous and needs to be removed and burned! By the way, my name is Marge Clayton, but please call me Marge." She held out her hand, smiling as she did.

It was best to get the titles out of the way in the beginning. "Lieutenant Beverly Williams, I'm assigned to Pearl Harbor. My husband was supposed to be here today, but he got called into work early this morning."

"He's in the Navy, too?" Marge asked as she sipped gin and fruit juice through a straw. Navy meant VA backed mortgages and steady incomes.

"No, he's a police officer. He works for Five-O."

Marge choked on her gin. "Your husband works for Five-O? Wait, you said Williams? You must be married to Dan Williams! Isn't he the second in command over there?"

Beverly frowned at the woman sitting across from her. "Yes, he is. Do you know him?"

"I am well acquainted with Mr. Williams and the rest of the crew. I was devastated when I learned that Officer Kelly was killed. He was such a good man. Helped me out on more than one occasion. Well, Lieutenant Williams, if you feel up to a walk, I'll give you the Cook's tour."

Forty-five minutes later, Beverly was in love with the house. "I have one question," she asked. "Is the price listed in the brochure correct?"

Marge couldn't believe her good luck. Disclosure laws were making it next to impossible to unload the place. No one wanted a house with a criminal history, but she doubted an officer from Five-O would mind. It wasn't like the place was haunted, no one had been killed there, and the sooner she unloaded, er, sold the house, the sooner the neighborhood kids would stop breaking in in search of any money left behind when the previous renters were carted off to jail. "The owner is willing to negotiate the price and for you, I can make a deal. He wants to get rid of this place fast and he knows he will have to sell it below market value if he wants to unload, er, expedite the sale."

"I'll have to talk to my husband first, and he'll have to see the house. When would be a good time to bring him by?" Beverly asked as Marge walked her to her car.

"Honey, you're the first live, ah, prospective buyer I've had since this thing first went on the market a year ago. The owner was using it as a rental property until it sold, only the last batch of tenants left the place in a huge mess. He ended up spending a boatload of money to fix the damage they'd done and now he just wants to sell it and move back to the mainland." She handed Beverly a business card. "That card has my private cell phone number and my home landline. Call me anytime day or night, only not too early. At my age, I need all the beauty sleep I can get."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

O-O-O-O-O

Steve opened the blinds and the doors leading to the lanai before he sat down to the pile of reports on his desk. It was shaping up to be a beautiful day in Honolulu with a fresh breeze blowing in from offshore _. Sailing_ _weather_ , he thought _, and I'm stuck at work_. He booted up his computer, logged into the system, and started typing the report on his visit to Pahoa's residence.

There was a brief knock at the door as Danny and Duke entered. Duke was holding a cloth bound book with a dirty, fingerprint smeared cover.

"Find anything out from Pahoa?" Duke asked.

Steve shook his head. "Either Pahoa didn't know Rego was dead or he's putting on a good act. He claimed he doesn't know a thing about Rego's death, but he wasn't sorry he was dead. He considered Rego to be untrustworthy and the only reason he'd put up with him for as long as he did was because his daughter had feelings for him."

"She could have done better, that's for sure," Duke said, a look of pure disgust on his handsome Polynesian face. If a creep like Rego had ever shown up on his doorstep it would not have been pleasant, as Duke was very protective towards his family. "I talked to her briefly after Rego was arrested. She was upset and demanding to see him. I got her calmed down and then Pahoa sent his man Swann around to take her home. Sweet girl, and pretty, not the brightest in the bunch, but a nice kid."

"I got the same vibe from her," McGarrett said, pausing for a moment to consider his next words. "Pahoa had always managed to keep his family and the _Kumu_ separated. That is until Rego arrived on the scene. He said something I'm still trying to comprehend. He said he was sorry for everything Rego put Chin's family through. I swear it sounded like an apology."

"From the head of the _Kumu_ ," Duke said with raised eyebrows.

"Yeah, go figure. What got me was he sounded genuinely sincere. Maybe we can get some more answers out of Rego's lawyer. Until then I want around the clock surveillance on Pahoa and his daughter. If they as much as go out for a shaved ice, I want to know what flavor they're having. Did you find anything new at the jail?"

"You could say that," Duke said as he placed the jail's visitors log book on the desk in front of Steve and pointed to a name.

Steve's gaze went to the line Duke was pointing to. After a lifetime in law enforcement, he didn't think he could be shocked by a name written in a book. But there it was written in black ink he'd just about bet was from a silver barreled Cross pen. "This can't be right," he finally said.

"Che made a copy of the page and has turned it over to a handwriting expert at the university along with a few known samples of his signature. We'll know in a couple of hours if it's real or not."

"This doesn't make sense," Steve said. "Why would he be visiting a thug like Rego? We're going to have to play this one close to the vest. Duke, see how much snooping into his life you can do without setting off any alarms. If there's nothing there, so much the better, but if there is…" he trailed off, wondering if he was about to kick over a hornet's nest.

"On it," Duke said. "When Mendoza gets back to the lab, I'll have her do a public records search. You can find a lot of info from one of those, and you don't need a warrant because it's in the public domain."

"And if you find anything squirrely, then we can use that as a basis for a warrant to dig deeper," Danny said. "Good news, though, Sandy is picking up the warrant to get into the lawyer's briefcase as we speak. She should be back soon."

"He doesn't want to say why he was visiting Rego on a Saturday morning?" Steve asked.

"He's willing to talk, alright," Danny said. "Only he's not doing it without a court order. He made a rather cryptic statement when I asked why he was there. He said he had paperwork for Rego to sign, but now that Rego was dead, everyone was going to be in CYA mode and he wanted to make sure his was well covered. Can't say that I blame him."

"Find anything on the security cameras?"

"Not a thing," Duke said. "As in nothing but a nice empty corridor. From midnight last night until I pulled the tape around ten this morning. You would think you were looking at an empty building instead of county jail. According to Mendoza, someone physically overrode the security codes for the camera on the segregation cells. Someone with more than a passing knowledge of computers and surveillance systems. Rego could have been dancing naked in the corridor with his killers and it wouldn't show on the security feed."

"That, gentlemen," McGarrett said, getting up to pace around his desk, "tells me this is an inside job. Duke, tell Mendoza she's on overtime. I want the book on every guard on duty last night and this morning. Look for our old favorites, troubled marriages and money problems. You know the drill."

Sandy came in carrying a bag that was emitting a wonderful aroma.

"I've got your writ, Danny," she said, placing the bag on a table and taking the warrant out of her purse to hand to Danny. "And the manapua man was in the back lot. I figured everyone would be hungry, so I got a dozen; pork, beef, and veggie." Manapuas were a Hawaiian fast-food staple, steamed buns stuffed with meat and vegetables and sinfully delicious.

"You are a lifesaver, Sandy," Danny said. "I'm starving, but I suppose we need to get into Clement's briefcase before we dig in. He's in interview room two."

Duke grabbed a couple of buns out of the bag. "Thanks, Sandy. I gave Michael one of these last week and I think more of it ended up smeared on his car seat than inside him." Duke was enjoying his second round of parenting more than he had ever expected. Maybe it was because he and Susan were older this time around, not that it mattered. He was hopelessly in love with the retired Army First Sergeant from Indiana and considered Michael an added bonus to his good fortune.

"If you're heading for the computer lab, you'd better bring a couple for Pacita," Sandy said. "She's already out of sorts because you called her in today. I think she had something romantic planned with her girlfriend this afternoon."

"Good idea," Duke said, taking two more buns from the bag and heading off to the computer lab in the basement. After seeing what Mendoza could do with computers all the detectives made it their business to make sure she was happy. The petite Filipino's computer skills were becoming legendary and a little bit frightening.

Danny and McGarrett found Clement sitting quietly, reading the latest legal thriller by John Grison. He tossed the book into the trash as the two detectives sat down.

"Grison is full of crap. Half the stuff he writes about would get the case thrown out of court on a technicality and censor from the state bar. Good thing he decided to be a writer instead of a lawyer."

Danny handed Clement the warrant. The young lawyer read over it. "Looks like everything is in order. Got your tape machine on? Am I still under the Miranda you read at the jail or do you need to repeat it, just in case?" He laid the briefcase on the table.

"The original Miranda is still in force," Danny said. Despite looking like a sixteen-year-old with self-esteem issues, Clement knew what he was doing.

"Let's get on with it, shall we?" McGarrett said.

Clement opened the briefcase and took out two legal sized papers in blue folders. "As you know the court appointed me as James Rego's public defender. I was trying to get him to accept a plea deal for murder in the first with the RICO charges dropped but he was insisting on going to trial. I tried to explain that if he were convicted under the RICO statute in Federal court, he would be eligible for the death penalty that Hawaii does not have, but he was determined to take the case to a jury. Why I don't know, because he had a snowball's chance in hell of an acquittal. Then kindly old Mother Nature threw a monkey wrench into the gearbox, or, to put it rather crudely, a bun in little Kini's oven. Mr. Rego got Ms. Pahoa pregnant."

McGarrett and Danny looked at the lawyer with raised eyebrows. That certainly changed things.

The lawyer continued his statement. "Mr. Pahoa visited my office last week. We had a long talk about Mr. Rego's future, which isn't worth a plug nickel. He's going to jail. The only thing in question was for how long and where. Mr. Pahoa made an offer he wanted me to pass on to Mr. Rego. I did, and Mr. Rego was more than willing to accept Mr. Pahoa's offer, and quite frankly, I was relieved I was about to see the last of Mr. Rego."

"Why's that, Mr. Clement?" Steve asked, frowning. So little Kini was pregnant. He had suspected as much from Kini's worn appearance that morning.

Clement passed the first set of papers over to McGarrett. "In exchange for Rego's promise to never attempt to see or contact Ms. Pahoa or her child, her father would agree to pay for Rego's legal bills, up to and including paying for private labs for testing all materials found at the crime scene or from any other sources, including the weapon used to kill Officer Kelly. We're talking about a legal team that would have put the one OJ had to shame. That's what the first paper says." The lawyer looked off into the distance. "My mom was a single parent. My dad took off as soon as he found out she was pregnant. There were times when she was working three jobs just to put food on the table and keep a roof over our heads. Rego jumped at the chance to walk away from his responsibilities, just like the Amazing Vanishing Sperm Donor. Ms. Pahoa is lucky. She has the support of her family and her father's loaded."

"What was in the other set of papers?" Danny asked, picturing Beverly lying on her side as he massaged her aching back muscles, wondering exactly how Kini would manage on her own.

"That one? That's the good one, my personal 14th amendment. That's the one that says I am resigning from this case and agreeing to turn over all case files to the firm of Takemora and Sullivan who would be taking over Mr. Rego's defense and I would never have to see that low life creep again." Clement caught the looks McGarrett and Williams were giving him. "Look, Mr. McGarrett, Mr. Williams, I didn't want this case, but it was my job to defend Mr. Rego and the only way I know how is to do it right. I took this job straight out of law school for the experience. I know most of my clients are as guilty as sin and I had no doubt that Rego was guilty. Most of a PD's job is making sure their clients' rights aren't violated and to get them the lightest sentence possible. It's what we do."

"What you are saying is that Kapi Pahoa was willing to pay for Rego's defense team if he agreed to stay away from Kini and her child, a child that isn't even born yet?" McGarrett asked. He didn't think his opinion of Rego could possibly go any lower. He was wrong. The contempt he had for Rego plummeted to new depths.

"Yeah, he was making things convenient for himself while not giving a damn about Ms. Pahoa or their child. Except it really didn't matter how much money Pahoa threw at the case or what Issi Takemora managed to pull out of his ass for a defense, Rego was going to be locked up for a long time. He kept hinting about knowing things certain people wouldn't want to be made public and about having connections to influential people he refused to name. Claimed he was holding them in reserve until he really needed them. I haven't been practicing law for very long, but I know a bullshit story when I hear one. He thought he had the charm and charisma to deadlock a jury in his favor. It wasn't going to happen. The least I was willing to go was forty years with no possibility of parole and the DA would drop the RICO charges. He thought he could convince a jury he was innocent. That's why I was so shocked when Mr. Williams told me Rego had hanged himself in his cell. I always thought he was too cocky and full of himself to commit suicide."

"That means Rego was not acting suicidal the last time you saw him," Danny asked, frowning. "When was that?"

"Thursday morning, about eight. You can check the visitor's logs for the exact time. I informed him of Mr. Pahoa's offer, and he accepted. You'd have thought he'd won the lottery, the way he was carrying on. He was grinning like a Cheshire cat. I wanted to knock his teeth down his fucking throat. After I left I went to the firm of Takemora and Sullivan where I met with Issi Takemora and Mr. Pahoa and we worked out the details of both agreements. Feel free to contact my supervisor at the PD's office for confirmation. I made sure she knew what was going on. I think she was as anxious to get rid of Rego as I was. You can also ask Mr. Takemora. He's honest enough when it comes to making a buck, and he was going to make major bank on this one. The three of us, Takemora, Rego, and I were to meet at the jail this morning to sign the papers. I got here first and got caught up in the lockdown. Takemora was running late and couldn't get in after the building was secured. I didn't know I was going to walk into a criminal investigation."

"You have been most helpful." McGarrett stood up to shake Clement's hand. "I foresee a bright future for you, Mr. Clement. It's lawyers like you that keep us old coppers on our toes."

He was getting up to leave as the door burst open. Sandy came in, out of breath, her face flushed pink. "Mr. McGarrett, HPD just called. Someone opened fire on Pahoa's house!"

"Sandy, come with me. Danno, get those papers into evidence, and get someone over here from the DA's to get Mr. Clement's statement, and keep those manapuas warm!"

O-O-O-O-O

The street was lined with police and emergency vehicles. The EMT's had one of the guards on a stretcher. McGarrett recognized him as the kid in the pagoda shaped guard shack by the front gate. The other guard was sitting on the curb, holding the big German Shephard on his lap and crying. The dog's fur was matted with blood and it was whimpering. One of the EMT's had applied a pressure dressing to the dog's shoulder that was already soaked through with blood.

"What happened?" McGarrett asked.

The kid was sobbing so hard McGarrett was having trouble understanding what he was saying. "I don't know! I heard the shots, then more shots and then Kimo knocked me down, then I heard him screaming! I've got to get him to the vet! He's hurt!"

McGarrett signaled one of the HPD officers. "Get this man and his dog to the vet. While the dog's being taken care of, get his statement."

The officer nodded. He was an older man, who had two dogs of his own. "On it, sir." He saluted and helped the kid put the dog into the back of a blue and white. The squad car pulled out into the street and as soon as the driver cleared the police area, hit lights and sirens.

The EMT's were loading the other guard in the ambulance. His shirt was ripped open, his chest swathed in bandages that were slowly turning red. A pressure bandage was wrapped around his head and over his left eye. As soon as the patient was secured, and the doors closed, the ambulance tore down the street with sirens blaring and lights flashing.

"Status?" McGarrett asked one of the remaining EMT's.

The man shook his head. "Not good. He took two to the chest and abdomen and one to the head. If he makes it to the hospital it'll be a miracle. If you will excuse me please, Mr. Pahoa wants us to check his daughter before we leave.

"Go ahead. Sandy, go with him. See what Ms. Pahoa has to say about all this."

Sandy nodded and followed the EMT inside.

McGarrett had a look around. The guard shack was riddled with bullet holes, the windows shattered, and a line of dark blood seeped from under what was left of the door. The plants on both sides of the gate looked as if they'd been attacked by a madman with a weed eater. The house had broken windows and chipped brickwork. The cherub figurine that had once graced the ornamental fountain in the center of the circular driveway had lost its head. The decapitated fountain had spewed water everywhere until someone had sense enough to shut it down. Billy Swann stood guard at the front door. McGarrett was surprised when Swann opened the door and stood aside.

"Mr. Pahoa is waiting for you, Mr. McGarrett," he said, calmly and politely, his face unreadable. If McGarrett hadn't known better, he'd have sworn the man was taking stoicism lessons from Duke.

"Did you see who did this, Mr. Swann?" McGarrett asked.

"No, sir. I was in the backyard when I heard the shots. Whoever did it was gone before I got out here. I called 911 and did what little I could for the Ron, the guard that was shot. I already gave my statement to the HPD officer. This way please, Mr. Pahoa is waiting."

McGarrett knew that was all he was going to get from Swann. He went inside. The place was a mess. Pahoa was removing the lampshade from a badly damaged antique lamp.

"My wife bought this lamp the year Kini was born," Pahoa said. "Authentic Tiffany shade. When Kini was a baby she loved to watch the colors change with the light. I was hoping to pass it on to my grandchild." He set the broken shade down reverently.

"Want to tell me what happened, Mr. Pahoa?"

Pahoa was a full blood Hawaiian, standing six feet five in his stocking feet, and, like most Islanders, was as strong as an ox. He was intelligent, well spoken, and smart enough to stay out of the hard drug trade, trafficking instead in marijuana, most of it grown in Hawaii. Under Pahoa's leadership, the _Kuma_ had branched out into enough of the other rackets to more than made up for the money lost by not dealing in narcotics like heroin and cocaine.

McGarrett had always considered Pahoa to be confident bordering on cocky. Until now. Pahoa looked as if his entire world had been shaken and dropped at his feet like a pile of rubble.

"Someone opened fire on my home, Mr. McGarrett. I have no idea who or why. Kini has not been feeling well and I had gone upstairs to check on her when I heard the shots. My first thoughts were to see to her safety. She had been lying down. I pulled her off the bed and onto the floor as the bullets were flying."

"You have no idea who did the shooting?"

Pahoa hesitated for a moment. "I would be lying if I told you I had no enemies. I have shut down all _Kumu_ operations until further notice. There are people who did not think this was a good idea."

"Then why did you shut down operations?"

"I have personal reasons, Mr. McGarrett."

"Reasons that almost got you killed. Not to mention your daughter and her baby." Bingo! Pahoa gave him look that could have cut steel.

"How did you find out Kini is pregnant?"

"Rego's lawyer," McGarrett said, wanting to gloat and doing his best not to. "Don't worry, we got a court order to talk to him at his insistence. You weren't exactly leveling with me this morning, and I can understand why. We know Kini is pregnant and that in exchange for Rego never contacting her and her child, you were agreeing to pay for his legal defense. Only now Rego's dead and someone did a damn good job of shooting up your house. Any idea why?"

They were interrupted by the sound of footsteps. The EMT's came down the stairs, their medi-kits bumping against the wall.

"Mr. Pahoa," the lead EMT said, smiling. "Your daughter is fine. Just some overwrought nerves that will be better after she's had a nap. I recommend she see her OB as soon as possible, just to be on the safe side, and her OB can prescribe a mild sedative safe for pregnant women."

Pahoa nodded and called for his assistant. Swann materialized at Pahoa's side. "Billy Swann, see these gentlemen out. Tip them well." Pahoa gave McGarrett a questioning look. "Mr. McGarrett, before I say anything further, I need to speak with my attorney, but first I must attend to my daughter."

"I know you too well, Pahoa. If you are planning on retaliation, I advise you don't."

"Retaliation? Against whom? When your men are done with tramping through what is left of my lawn and gardens you will probably know more than I do. I trust you can find your way out?"

"Send Officer Welles out when she's done taking Kini's statement, please."

Pahoa grunted and went upstairs. McGarrett went outside to find Che and the lab crew going over every inch of the front lawn, looking for shell casings and bullet fragments.

"Find anything, Che?"

"Lots of slugs and brass," Che said. "I'm going to estimate that at least four dozen rounds were fired. The brass is from a 9mm with H&K markings."

"Heckler and Koch? That's an interesting weapon of choice."

"And an expensive one. Whoever did the shooting had enough money to spring for the good stuff."

"Is Compton working today?"

"Which one?" Che asked, smiling. Ivory was a rookie police officer and a newlywed. She had married Robbie Compton the weekend after she had graduated from the Academy. Robbie Compton, now promoted to sergeant, was still walking around with the slightly dazed look he'd had since meeting the African-American soldier from New Orleans.

"Ivory's the pretty one but I need Robbie for the weapons expertise," McGarrett said.

"I already asked when I found the H&K brass. He'll meet me at the lab when we're done here. By the way, I e-mailed the report on the noose from Rego's cell to your office. There's something about that homemade rope that's bothering me, and I don't know what it is. I'm going to take a closer look when I get back to the lab, and the University should have the results of the handwriting analysis soon."

"Thanks, Che. Let's see if we can wrap this one up fast." As he walked back to his SUV he couldn't help but smile at thought of the changes that had taken place since he'd met the small green-eyed Army sergeant from Louisiana. _We got lucky_ , he thought, _all of us. We found good women willing to put_ _up with us and love us in spite of ourselves._ The ringing of his phone interrupted his thoughts. "McGarrett," he said gruffly. No one would ever accuse Steven J. McGarrett of having an identity crisis.

"Normal people don't work on Saturday," Doc groused. "But no one ever said you were normal. Want to hear Rego's autopsy report?"

"That would be nice," McGarrett said. "Nicer still if it's in English and not medicalese."

"I was right. Rego died from a broken neck. And get this, whoever did it has got to be one strong _kanaka_. His head was twisted to the right with enough force to shatter two vertebrae and sever the spinal cord. I suspect if our killer had wanted to, he could have twisted Rego's head completely off. Oh, and he's a southpaw."

"Left-handed?"

"You can tell by the direction of the fracture. It twisted left to right. If it was done by a right-handed person it would have been to the right. Like that rhyme, lefty loosey, righty tighty? Only opposite."

"Good work, Doc. I'm on my way back to the palace. Bring over the report when you're done."

"I'll email it. It's my granddaughter's birthday and I'm not missing the party. It's princess themed. I have to wear a damned pink boa, but she's my only granddaughter and she won't always be five. If you have any questions, call me. On second thought, call my assistant." Doc hung up the phone before McGarrett could reply.

McGarrett was lost in thought when Sandy got into the passenger side of the SUV. He had hired HPD sergeant Sandra Welles as Five-O's first female detective the previous June, shortly before Chin was murdered. She had proved invaluable during the murder investigation and beyond.

"Something bothering you, Mr. McGarrett?" she asked.

"Other than I keep telling you to call me Steve, yes. You're new at this. What's your take on the situation?"

"With the investigation? All of it or a specific part?"

"Give me the big picture then tell me why."

Sandy thought for a moment. "When Rego murdered Chin it was without orders from Pahoa or the _Kuma._ Rego was a low-level hood with ambition but he wouldn't have openly defied Pahoa without someone with a lot of power backing up his actions. Rego and his two buddies were from the Mainland and wouldn't have known Chin from Adam unless someone told them." She paused for a minute and took a deep breath. What she was about to say was so farfetched she suspected McGarrett would think she had gone off the deep end, but she had been agonizing over the idea for weeks and went ahead anyway. "I think Chin was set up by someone in HPD. Very few people knew Chin was undercover and I know the information didn't come from Five-O. I know that sounds really off the wall…."

McGarrett looked at her sharply. His instincts were still good. He knew a good cop when he saw one. "No, Sandy, not in the least. What else are you thinking?"

 _In for a penny, in for a pound,_ she thought, sighing. "There was the money found when we searched the house after Rego was arrested. Over a million in cash. He hadn't been working for Pahoa long enough to skim that much without alerting the entire _Kumu_. That much cash has to come from somewhere." She paused to collect her thoughts because this was where things went off the rails and she didn't have one iota of proof, just a lot of speculation. "I think Rego was working for someone on the Mainland, someone who looked at a map of Hawaii and decided it was ripe for the picking. Someone with enough money and power to buy their way into HPD. Someone who was using Rego as leverage to get their foot in the door. Rego was an Islander. That got him into the _Kumu._ Then he charmed Kini into falling in love with him. He used that poor girl to get close to her father." She leaned back against the headrest, waiting for McGarrett to tell her where she got it all wrong.

To her surprise, that didn't happen.

"Good job, Officer Welles. We'll make a detective out of you yet." He started the engine and pulled out onto the street. "When we get back to the Palace. I want you to pull every file we have on Rego. We have the book on him already, but here's what I want you to do. You know, Maggie is a writer, and she re-reads and edits every word at least twice before she even lets me see it. She calls it 'line editing.' That's what I want you to do. Go over everything we have on Rego line by line and find what we're missing."

"Will do, sir," she said, smiling with relief. "Thank you for listening to my wild ideas without thinking I'm crazy."

"Sandy, I know you're crazy," he said, the muscles at the corner of his mouth twitching in an effort to keep from laughing. "That's why I hired you."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

O-O-O-O-O

Maggie was cutting the satin into long narrow bands and the pink velvet into small squares. She and Susan had cut out the cotton print fabric for the nine patch blocks that Tilda had sewn together using Maggie's Pfaff sewing machine. Tilda was sewing the blocks together with increasing confidence. Maggie was beginning to think that maybe Steve was right about someone needing their own sewing machine.

Tilda finished the block she was working on and gave it to Susan for pressing. Michael was having his after-lunch nap, sleeping peacefully in the portable playpen Maggie had bought shortly after his birth. The little boy had turned two in May. He had inherited a head full of blond curls from his mother and eyes the color of melted chocolate from his father. Susan had been concerned that he'd inherit her fair and easily sunburned skin, but the minute Michael was exposed to the sun, he turned the same shade of Polynesian brown as Eddie and Lillie. The combination of tanned skin and dark brown eyes topped by blond curls was going to make him an absolute heartbreaker once the girls started noticing.

"This is the last one," Tilda said, passing the block over to Susan.

"Then let's take a break before we start stitching the top together," Maggie said. She stood up slowly, giving her spine time to re-align itself.

"Are you okay, Mom?" Tilda asked.

Maggie was too stunned to speak for a minute. It was the first time Tilda had called her mom. Susan raised an eyebrow and smiled.

"I'm fine, sweetie," Maggie said. "It's just that sometimes the spare parts remind me they're in there, especially if I'm sitting or standing in one spot for too long."

Tilda started picking up the scraps of satin and velvet that had fallen to the floor. "Are these too small to keep?" she asked.

"I've been wanting to try a crazy quilt one of these days," Maggie said. "Those scraps would work for that. Let's add them to the stash. Put them in the bin with the rest of the scraps."

"You and the stash," Susan said. "You've got enough fabric in there to start your own fabric store. As I recall, you even managed to get Andy to bring some silk back from Thailand."

"I've still got it," Maggie said. "You know that would make a nice lining for a crazy quilt."

"Like the one you have in the closet?" Tilda asked.

"Closet?" Maggie said, confused. She had never made a crazy quilt. She decided it must be a length of fabric with a print that Tilda had mistaken for a quilt.

"It's in the back, in a bag. I saw it this morning when we were choosing pink fabric," Tilda said.

Susan gave Maggie a look that was part non-com and part amused. "I knew it! You've got so much fabric in there you can't remember what you have. The fabric has reached critical mass. That closet is going to implode!"

"Well, let's solve this mystery. Tilda, could you get the quilt for me, please. We'll spread it out and see what we've got."

Tilda shook her head at the grown up's antics. She had found the quilt that morning, in a box at the very back of the closet, still wrapped in clear plastic. She pulled out the bundle, finding it heavier than she's expected.

"Here it is, Mom," she said. "The sticker on the bag says 'Sukie's'."

"Oh, my god!" Maggie exclaimed. "Now I remember! We were shopping at Sukie's on Friday the thirteenth. That was right before Michael was born. I got a box of vintage fabric for like twenty bucks. I remember taking the fabric out of the box and washing and ironing it, but I didn't do anything with the quilt because I didn't have the time or cotton gloves." She stopped to catch her breath, giving a deep sigh. "I think that with everything else that happened, I simply forgot about having the quilt."

"We were shopping on Friday the thirteenth," Susan said. "Because Michael decided to stay in until Duke's birthday. I don't think any of us have had a chance to slow down since."

"Can we take it out of the bag?" Tilda asked.

"Of course, honey," Maggie said. "There is a box of cotton gloves in the bottom drawer of the sewing machine cabinet. We don't know how old this quilt is and we're going to treat it like an antique until we can date it. Get the gloves and the utility scissors, please."

Tilda got the gloves and the scissors from the drawer as Susan cleared the top of the cutting table. All three donned the white cotton gloves and Maggie carefully cut the plastic wrapper from the quilt.

"Here we go," she said, tossing the plastic into the trash can. "Tilda, if you and Susan would get the ends, we can get this mystery solved." Maggie carefully unfolded the quilt. Tilda and Susan each took a side and gently spread the quilt open.

They stared, wide-eyed at the quilt.

The center was a square of pale blue silk, embroidered in red and gold thread with the words: _Imprisoned at Iolani Palace ... We began the quilt here, Oct. 11, 1894._

O-O-O-O-O

HPD's armory was in the basement of the main headquarters on Beretania Street. Duke was wondering what it was Sgt Kaliko Kamaka found so urgent that it was necessary to call him away from a murder investigation that was getting more complicated by the hour. He signed the visitor's log and waited for the officer at the reception desk to open the steel-clad door. The building had been renovated back in the late 70's and HPD's armory was turned into a vault so secure it would have taken a mortar round to breach the door.

Once inside, Sgt Kamaka opened the door, inviting Duke in and handing him still another visitor's book. The first signature only allowed for access to the basement. The second was for access to the arms room itself. Duke smiled at the sight of so many well-maintained weapons stored neatly in their locked racks. The place smelled of cordite and gun oil.

"What's up, Kaliko? I hate to sound like I'm in a rush, but we're up against it and I'm running short on time."

"Duke," Kaliko said, sounding worried. "You know every Saturday I do an inventory of everything in here. Federal law requires it, especially on the full autos. I don't know how it happened, or when, but I've got two assault rifles and ten loaded thirty round magazines missing. I have gone over every inch of this place, trying to find the guns. They're not here. I wanted to talk to you before I sounded the alarm. Something ain't right and I don't know what it is."

Duke frowned. "Are you sure the weapons are missing? Maybe someone signed them out for target practice and hasn't turned them back in."

"You know it doesn't work that way. Any weapons signed out has to be back in by the end of that shift unless it's being used for some special op. There's no record of these two guns being signed out by anyone. Believe me, I have looked."

"What's missing?" Duke asked.

Kaliko took a deep breath, held it for a minute and then slowly exhaled. "Two Heckler and Koch MP5 9 millimeters. Two of the nastiest pieces of armament we've got in inventory. They're small, easy to conceal, and with the thirty round mags they have the cyclic rate of fire of a buzz saw."

Duke gave a silent whistle. He'd objected to the HK's on principle, considering them useful for a firefight and that was about it. Chief Dann had ordered a dozen of the weapons after seeing them in action on _Miami Vice._ The only time those lethal little rifles ever left the arms room was for target practice, mostly to acquaint police cadets with automatic weapons fire. "There's no receipt where the guns were signed out?"

"None. No originals, no copies, and the receipt book is still in order with no missing pages. Both guns were here when I went home Wednesday. I get Thursday and Friday off and Bollinger was on duty. I've been trying to call him all morning and he's not answering his phone."

Kaliko looked like a man hanging on a ledge by his fingernails. Missing weapons, especially missing assault rifles, were a serious issue. Especially in light of what had happened at Pahoa's house.

"Have you been listening to the radio calls this morning?" Duke asked.

"No, it's distracting while I'm doing inventory. Why? Don't tell me some kid got his hands on the guns and shot up a shopping mall."

"There was a drive-by at Kapi Pahoa's house a couple of hours ago. Killed one of his security guards and made a mess of the front of the house. Che's been digging 9mm slugs out of the brickwork and picking up 9mm brass with the H&K trademark stamped on it."

"Shit," Kaliko said. "I gotta call the Chief."

Chief Dann was the last person Duke wanted to alert about the missing weapons. "Hold off on that until after we talk to Bollinger, in case he knows where the guns are. No use getting him in trouble if we can avoid it. Send a blue and white out to his house, pick him up and have him brought to Five-O headquarters. Can I get a copy of the pages of your logbook for Thursday and Friday? And the same for the ones upstairs?"

"Not a problem. You know, we got everything down here but video cameras. I think I'm going to bring that up at the next budget meeting."

Duke thought about the tape he'd pulled from the jail CCTV cameras. "Video makes things easier in court, but an alert officer is always a better witness. Let's see if we can run down those weapons and get them back here before the press gets wind of this."

"You got that right, Brudah!" Kaliko was making copies of the log book on the elderly copy machine. "Hey, I forgot to ask! How's the little one? He's what, two?" Kaliko was one of Kalani's cousins and still considered Duke part of their extended _Ohana._

"Growing like a weed," Duke said, smiling like a proud dad. "He turned two in May and I think he does more running than walking, and he's starting to talk. Susan says he speaks fluent Michaelese and the only person who can understand him is Tilda Kelly."

"They don't stay babies long these days. Hey, Compton's working today. I'm going to send him over to pick up Bollinger. That kid is turning into a damn good cop and I trust him a lot more than a couple of street sergeants I could name."

"Works for me. I've got to get back to Iolani." He took the copies from Kaliko and gave them a quick perusal. He found the name he was looking for logged in late Friday afternoon.

Sometimes he really wished his cop instincts weren't so damned good.

O-O-O-O-O

McGarrett had just sat down in his office chair and booted up the computer on his desk when there was a knock at the door. He looked up as Chief Dann came strolling in.

Dann looked like hell. He was grey-faced, and his eyes were sunk in dark shadows. Chief William Edward Dann was nearing retirement but was usually the picture of robust good health. He had a headful of iron-gray curls and a ruddy complexion. He was in good shape for his age, although he had put about twenty pounds in the last couple of years and was starting to go soft around the middle.

"What brings you out this way on Saturday morning, Chief?" McGarrett asked, "Have a seat, please."

Dann sat down in one of the white leather chairs facing McGarrett's desk. "You know damn well why I'm here, McGarrett. The jail is HPD's jurisdiction, but since you have managed to poach two of my best officers and have a better crime lab than HPD ever will, I'm going to let you take the lead on this one. But I still need to know what you've found out about Jimmy Rego's death."

McGarrett gave the chief a sharp look. Well, a broken neck was a side effect of hanging, so he wouldn't be lying, exactly. "Rego died from a broken neck."

"You mean he found a way to kill himself?"

"I didn't say that. Doc has it down as 'death by misadventure' until he's done with the autopsy. I will have him e-mail you a copy of the report."

"See that you do. Have you contacted his next of kin? The last thing I want is for the city to get sued over a thug like Rego."

"Rego didn't have any close relatives here in the Islands. The only people he had on his contact form were his lawyer and Kini Pahoa, and by lawyer, I mean his public defender."

"That kid from the PD's office? What's his name, Clampett?"

"Clement. I spoke to him earlier. He's waiting for a representative from the DA's office to record his statement," McGarrett said. He didn't bother telling the Chief that Clement was going to be taking a nice little vacation courtesy Five-O and the Honolulu county sheriff until McGarrett knew who killed Rego.

"You know, McGarrett, I don't understand why you're making such a big deal out of this. Kelly was your friend. If it was one of my officers killed, I don't think I would be digging too deep into why the killer would want to do himself in. And I sure as hell wouldn't be wasting time and manpower looking for who shot up Kapi Pahoa's house."

McGarrett frowned as he glared at the Chief. "You heard? I thought you were playing golf this morning?" McGarrett knew this to be true because that's what Chief Dann did every Saturday morning when it wasn't pouring rain. He had Sandy call the municipal court to confirm he was there.

"How do you know I was playing golf?" Dann asked, returning McGarrett's glare.

"That's where you are every Saturday morning. Every cop in Honolulu knows it and does their best not to bother you. I'd appreciate it if you'd let me in on how you manage to get them to do that. I can't have breakfast with my family without getting called."

"When you get ten more years in you'll know. Until then, do you have any leads about who shot up Pahoa's residence? The _Kumu's_ been too quiet. I think Pahoa's up to something. I wouldn't put it past him to order a drive-by on his own house. I'm pulling my men off the scene as soon as your lab boys are finished. If you think Pahoa needs protection, pull it out of Five-O's budget, although, personally, I wish whoever did it had popped Pahoa. That would save us all a hell of a lot of trouble."

For the second time in one morning, McGarrett had heard a murder would save everyone a lot of trouble. He resisted the urge to grab the Chief by the collar of his golf shirt with the stylized figure of a golfer embroidered on the pocket and the shirt sleeve, and demand what trouble it was they would be saved from. The tiny golfer was stitched to a silk and cotton blend fabric with a very high thread count and came with an equally high price tag. He smiled at the thought. You didn't live with a woman born with a threaded needle in her hand without learning a few things about fabric.

"One of Pahoa's security guards was killed. Young kid, early twenties. He worked for the security company, not Pahoa. The only thing he was guilty of was going to work this morning."

McGarrett watched as the blood drained from Dann's face, leaving it an even sicklier grey color. "I didn't know anyone was hurt. You say the guard died?"

"It happens when you get hit by three 9mm slugs, one in the chest, one in the abdomen, and one in the head. He had an organ donor card. His heart, liver, and corneas are going out for transplant. At least some good will come out of it."

"That would rule out Pahoa, then. He seems more protective of his people than most criminals. I'm surprised he didn't have Rego shipped to Samoa until the heat was off. I heard you stopped by his house this morning to tell him the news personally. Trying to see what kind of reaction he'd have to Rego offing himself?"

"Among other things. The only thing I came away with was that while Pahoa had nothing to do with Rego's death, suicide, accident, or otherwise, he wasn't sorry he was dead."

"What about the daughter? You know Rego was giving it to her on a regular basis. Not that I can blame him, that gal is one hot looking piece of ass. I'd low crawl through broken glass to get me some of that!"

McGarrett had never heard Dann describe any woman in such a way before, especially one as young as Kini Pahoa. Maybe the Chief was going through some sort of mid-life crisis. "Excuse me," he said, frowning. "That last remark was unnecessary."

"Damn, McGarrett, that little army sergeant has got you whipped!" He held up his hands in surrender. "Sorry, it's been a long morning and I was trying to lighten things up."

"If you are referring to 'whipped' as what happens when you want to protect your family from the evil that's out there, then I suppose so. Most of the time its only low-level evil, like referring to a woman as a 'hot looking piece of ass'. Let's just say my wife has views about things like that. And so do I. How would you like it if someone referred to your daughter in that manner?"

"Okay, McGarrett! I get it! My conscious has been raised! First, it was putting females on the force, then it's putting them in squad cars and suddenly everyone gets all hot under the collar if you say the wrong thing and most of the time you have to guess what that is. Damn, McGarrett, it would seem you know as little as I do about Rego offing himself. Let me know if you get any leads on the shooters. If you will excuse me, I'm going back to the golf course. The back nine is waiting for me."

McGarrett shook hands with the Chief and escorted him out of his office. He had to resist the urge to wash his hands with hot water and strong soap.

O-O-O-O-O

Danny was on the phone with Beverly and missed the Chief's visit. She had called to tell him she had found the perfect house, and, best of all, it was on the beach and within their price range.

"I've got a ton of information from the realtor. Ms. Clayton says the owner wants to make a quick sale and move back to the mainland. Danny, it's perfect. There's even a Jacuzzi tub in the bath in the master suite!"

Danny smiled at the excitement in his wife's voice. He knew she had grown up in a working-class neighborhood in Demopolis, Alabama. Things that he had considered 'normal' while he was growing up, things like new shoes and nice clothes, field trips to museums and libraries, Saturday evening at the movies and summers spent at the beach when not working at the lawn and garden service he and a couple of buddies had started for pocket money. No, she had grown up in an area where people thought museums were for the 'elite,' books were a waste of time, and movies were frowned upon by the fundamentalist church her mother had forced her to attend. College had been as unobtainable as the moon. Instead, she had married a week after she graduated from high school for no other reason than to get away from her mother's ever-growing religious fanaticism. The first time her husband had beaten her, she had gone back home, having no other place to go, only to be told if she would behave herself, he wouldn't have to beat her.

Beverly had stayed with her abusive husband until the next fall when she told him she was pregnant. That, too, was all her fault; she had gotten pregnant just to tie him down more securely. He had slapped her and stormed out of the house, only to return two hours later, drunk, angry, and belligerent. He had beaten her so badly she'd lost the baby and had spent ten days in the ICU at University Hospital. When she had refused to go back to Demopolis, a kind social worker got her into a women's shelter in Mobile, where she stayed until she was strong enough to pass the Navy physical.

Beverly had been terrified when she found out she was pregnant. She knew Danny would never raise a hand to her, yet she was still frightened he would turn into the monster her ex-husband had become when he found out she was pregnant. Instead, he had come to her bedside, held her hand and washed the smudged dirt from her face, kissing her softly and telling her how much he loved her.

"Slow down, baby," he said. "You said three bedrooms, right?"

"Yes, it started out as four but one of the bedrooms was converted into a media room. It will make a good home office or a library." She had started buying children's book as soon as the doctors had released her from Tripler after she had been rescued from a human monster. She was determined her children were going to grow up in a world that contained books and museums.

"This case is getting screwier by the minute. I won't be able to see the house today, but how about at noon tomorrow? I think I can disappear for about an hour, that is if the realtor doesn't mind."

"Ms. Clayton says the seller is motivated and ready to make a deal if it gets the house sold sooner."

"What did you say the realtor's name was, honey?"

"Marge Clayton. Nice lady. Says she knows you and the rest of the crew. She said Uncle Chin helped her out on more than one occasion. Do you know her?"

Danny stared at the phone, dumbfounded. Beverly had finally found a house she liked, and the realtor was none other than Marge Clayton, a retired madam who once ran a very expensive escort service in Waikiki. He was about to give Beverly the shortened version of Marge's history when he heard Steve calling everyone to his office.

"I've got to go, baby, the Big Man is calling. I'll see you tonight. Love you."

He hung up the phone, slowly shaking his head. He looked at the address Beverly had given him. The address seemed familiar. He'd have to look it up later. He gathered up his notes and the copies of the information he'd manage to dig up.

For a brief second, he could have sworn he heard hornets buzzing. Angry hornets.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

O-O-O-O-O

McGarrett called a meeting as soon as Chief Dann was out the door. He took off his jacket, loosened his tie, and got ready to go to work. He took a fresh box of chalk out of his desk, cleaned the blackboard and wrote three names across the top.

Danny and Sandy arrived first, both carrying stacks of computer printouts.

"Where's Duke?" McGarrett asked, frowning.

"He's downstairs in the computer lab. He should be up in a few minutes," Sandy said. "And Dr. Fong said he'd be here in about half an hour. He has something he wanted to check first."

"Danno, what did you find out about the security camera?"

"I've never seen anything like it before. The security camera was opened, and the lens replaced with a fake with a cell like the ones animators use inserted into it. When it was in place, all the security camera saw was an empty corridor. Opaka down in the lab says it couldn't have taken more than five minutes to open the camera and swap out the lens if you knew what you were doing. With the cell in place, you get a great video of what's on the cell. Che had the cell sent over to the University. He's hoping they can tell us who made it."

McGarrett was writing the information on the chalkboard under Rego's name. "Did you get a list of the guards on duty for last night and this morning?"

"Got it," Danny said. "On weekends most of the guards are either fresh out of the academy or HPD officers and sheriff's deputies moonlighting for extra bucks. Mendoza is still running the financial checks and should have those later today." He passed copies of computer printouts to the rest of the crew. "The same guards who worked last night will be working tonight. I already spoke to Captain Howell and we're going to meet with both shifts tomorrow morning."

Duke came in a few minutes later, looking preoccupied. He glanced at the third name on the chalkboard and slowly shook his head.

McGarrett gave his detectives a quick glance, lingering a second too long over the spot Chin had once occupied.

"Time to go to work, gentleman," he paused for a moment. Five-O had seen many changes in the last few years, and Sandy was one of the best. He'd just have to adjust his thinking. "And lady. This morning sometime between 0700 and 0730 guards at county lockup found the body of Jimmy Rego dead in his cell from an apparent suicide. And by apparent, I say it was meant to look like a suicide. Rego's neck was broken, but he didn't do it himself." He paused for a moment, then wrote the new facts next to Rego's name.

"Next, we have Kapi Pahoa, head of the _Kumu_. Rego worked for Pahoa and was seeing the man's daughter. I talked to Pahoa this morning after Rego's body was found. Pahoa swears he didn't know anything about Rego's death but wasn't sorry he was dead." He wrote the info under Pahoa's name.

"Now comes the good part. Rego's lawyer got caught inside when the jail went on lockdown. We obtained a writ at Mr. Clement's request, to gain access to the contents of his briefcase. Mr. Clement had legal papers for Rego to sign." He wrote Kini's name under both Rego and Pahoa's names. "Kini Pahoa is pregnant. In exchange for never attempting to contact Kini or the child she is carrying, Pahoa agreed to pay the law firm of Takemora and Sullivan to defend Rego at trial."

Sandy raised her hand. "Mr. McGarrett, Ms. Gleeson from the DA's office is here taking Mr. Clement's statement. She brought along a videographer and a stenographer. She's taping everything."

"Good work, Officer Welles." He had taken the time to add both lawyer's names to the growing list. "The next thing we have is a drive-by shooting at Kapi Pahoa's house. An unarmed security guard working for a private contractor was killed, a guard dog injured, and the front of the house was sprayed with what appears to be a H&K 9millimeter bullets."

"Are you sure it was a H&K 9millimeter?" Duke asked. He wasn't at the crime scene and hadn't seen the reports.

"Che recovered slugs and brass at the scene. The brass had H&K's makers mark stamped into it."

"Any estimate as to how many shots were fired?"

"Che estimated several dozen, we will have better numbers when he's done counting the slugs and brass." McGarrett knew that if Duke was asking questions, it meant he had a hunch. "Why, do you have a theory?"

"Worse," Duke said. "Facts. Two H&K MP5 9millimeters and ten loaded thirty round magazines went missing from HPD's arms room either Thursday or Friday of last week when Sgt Bollinger was on duty. There is no record of when they were signed out, or by whom. Sgt Kamaka does a 100% inventory of the arms room every Saturday. He called me in before he started calling in HPD brass, in case the duty officer had misplaced the weapons. He's sending Compton out to pick Bollinger up and bring him here for questioning." He handed McGarrett the copies of the sign in logs. "Then we're going to have to start asking some tough questions. I saw Chief Dann leaving a few minutes ago. Can I ask why he was here?"

"He was here for a status report on the investigation." McGarrett looked at the name highlighted in yellow. "Damn."

"Did you see what he was driving?"

"No, I just saw him to the door," McGarrett said, wondering what Duke was getting at.

"I saw him getting into a shiny new dark blue Mercedes Maybach. I had to do a double-take because there are only about four of those on this Island. I got the plate numbers and had Pacita run them for me. The plate belongs to a '98 Maybach S650 sedan with an MSRP of around 140K. It's registered to Chief Dann and gives the address as a condo in that new high rise in Waikiki."

McGarrett gave a silent whistle. Danny, still hoping to find a house he and Beverly could afford, felt nauseated. He was studying the names on the list he was holding, wondering which one had a hand in Rego's death when everything clicked.

"Wait, you said Sgt Bollinger?" Danny asked. "As in Curtis Bollinger?"

"Same one," Duke said, frowning.

"Bollinger moonlights at the jail. He was on the eleven to seven shift this morning, but he'd already clocked out and left before the lockdown. According to his file, he's a six foot six Samoan and he powerlifts for kicks and giggles."

"Duke," McGarrett said. Police officer or not, Samoans could get testy when being arrested. "Get on the horn with Compton, tell him he needs backup." Before Duke could leave, his phone rang.

Central Dispatch had a patch through from Compton. Compton was at Bollinger's apartment. No, he didn't need backup. He needed the coroner. Bollinger was dead.

"On it," Duke said as he ended the call. "Steve, Pacita has the information you requested and will be up with the data as soon as it finishes printing. She did find out one thing that hasn't made the coconut wireless yet. Chief Dann and his wife are separated, pending divorce. And from what she's run down so far, it's about to get real ugly."

"Call me when you get more info about Bollinger," McGarrett said.

"Will do," Duke said as he left.

"Danno, get me the book on Bollinger. I want everything from the time he started kindergarten until today. Find out who his friends are and pay them a visit. From what I see it's looking like Bollinger let someone walk out of the HPD armory with two subguns and enough ammo to start an insurrection. I need to know why, because, god help us all, I know who." He passed the copies of the armory's visitor's book over to Danny. "I'll bet he signed it with that damned silver pen the Auxiliary gave him for his sixtieth birthday."

Danny looked at the page and nodded. "I'll bet it's the same one he used to sign the jail's logbook."

Chief Dann's name was highlighted in yellow.

O-O-O-O-O

Duke found Compton sitting on the hood of his squad car, waiting for the crime lab and coroner to arrive. He had secured the crime scene and called for backup. The officers from two of the blue and whites were busy directing traffic and keeping curious neighbors at bay.

Bollinger had lived in the ground floor end unit of a sprawling three story complex, in what was euphemistically called a 'garden' apartment, if you considered a studio apartment with a palm tree in a pot and bougainvillea vines covering the wall separating the lanai from the next unit a garden apartment.

Duke parked across the street and walked over to where Compton was sitting staring off into space, a clipboard on his lap where he was attempting to write his statement.

"How's it going, Robbie?" He asked gently. It didn't matter what the reason, the death of a police officer always affected the rest of the force.

"I've had better days. I got the call to bring Curt in from Sgt Kamaka. I figured he was at home because that's his car over there, parked in his assigned spot. I knocked on the door and didn't get an answer. I knocked harder, and the door opened because the latch hadn't caught. I called his name, told him who I was, still no answer. I went in and found him sitting in the recliner, dead. He's got what looks like his service weapon in his hand. Like he did it himself. Except there's something off about the crime scene. It feels wrong."

"How's that?" Duke asked patiently.

"There's blood splatter on the floor in front of the body. I could tell he was dead from across the room, and took the least likely path to the body, to check to make certain. I saw the blood on the carpet, and the wound, and it looks wrong. Where the hell's the coroner?"

"He should be here soon. Mind if I take a look around?" Duke found that if you asked first it gave the officer at the scene the feeling he was still in control and cut down the macho posturing over jurisdiction.

"Go ahead. Hell, I learned everything I know about crime scene procedure from your classes at the academy."

Duke patted Robbie on the shoulder. He went back to his truck for a pair of gloves and shoe covers before he went inside. No use tracking unknown substances into the crime scene. He stopped at the door to pull on the booties and gloves.

The sparsely furnished apartment was in semi-darkness. The shades were all down, the curtains were all closed. The only light was from the screen saver of the computer on a desk in the far corner, near the unmade Murphy bed. He crossed to where the body was sitting slumped in the recliner. Bollinger was still in his uniform pants but had taken off his shirt. He was wearing a form fitting blood covered white tee shirt that outlined muscles Schwarzenegger would have envied. It looked as if Bollinger had shot himself in the heart from very close range. His left hand was in his lap and his right hung at his side, still holding what looked like his .357 service revolver. There was blood splatter on the floor. Not much, but not in the pattern you'd expect from someone who had been shot while sitting in a chair.

There was a knock at the door as the crime scene techs and the coroner, all wearing bunny suits and booties announced themselves. Duke got out of the way and let them get on with their jobs. He went back to where Compton was waiting.

"I see what you mean by the crime scene looking off. The blood splatter is in the wrong place. The lab will have to tell us if it's his or someone else's."

Robbie was still trying to get his statement written while the scene was still fresh in his mind. He gave Duke a look of utter confusion. "I don't understand it, Duke. I saw him Wednesday at Surf Riders. We're both on the flag football team and I had missed practice because I was working. We were going over the strategy for the playoffs against the sheriff's squad. He didn't seem depressed to me. I still can't believe it. He was our secret weapon. The only left-handed lineman in the league. All he had to do was catch the ball and the next thing you know; our quarterback is doing the happy dance in the end zone. He was trying to talk Ivory into being a cheerleader. That didn't go over real well."

Duke's cop senses, always alert, were screaming at him.

"You said Bollinger is left handed?

"Yeah, anyone who's ever been on the firing range with him knows that. He had a hell of a time with marksmanship at the academy because none of the instructors fired leftie. Drove the watch commander crazy for inspections. Everything on his Sam Brown was the opposite of everyone else's."

"Remember how you said the crime scene was off, that it didn't feel right? The gun's in his right hand. Bollinger didn't kill himself. Someone else did it for him."

O-O-O-O-O

Che Fong and Pacita Mendoza made it to Steve's office a few minutes after Duke had left to join Compton at Bollinger's apartment. Che carried an expandable envelope containing the crime scene photos from Rego's cell and samples cut from the homemade rope. He took out the photograph showing Rego's neatly made prison bunk and got right to the point.

"This was bothering me all morning and I didn't make the connection until just before I got called out for the drive-by at Pahoa's. Rego had the reputation of being a neat freak. Notice how the bed is made. As you can see, the sheet if folded down over the edge of the blanket, like a collar. Both sheets are on the bed, leading me to wonder where he'd gotten the sheet he tore into strips to make into the rope he used to hang himself."

"I see," McGarrett said. "He could have stolen an extra sheet from the laundry room or from another cell."

"Except he didn't. The sheet used to make the rope had a five hundred thread count. It's made by Wamsutta and it's not cheap."

"In other words, not a sheet supplied by the jail," McGarrett said.

"Exactly," Che said. "whoever hung Rego brought his own rope."

"Who tears up a Wamsutta sheet to make a hangman's rope? Find any stray hairs or fiber or any odd fingerprints?" Steve asked.

"No stray hairs or fibers yet, but we're still looking. Nor as many fingerprints as you would expect to find. Rego kept his cell spotless. The only prints I found, other than Rego's were a few partials on the bars of the cell. I've got my assistant running those against the prints from the guards. We may have enough to identify whoever tied the rope to the bar, but it wouldn't be enough to be admissible as evidence at trial."

"If you can place a man in that cell, we can find a way to build a case. Have you heard back from the handwriting experts at the University?"

"Not yet," Che said. "My expert was out surfing. He's back now and should have the results in a few hours."

"Are we the only people on Ohau who work for a living? Anything new from Pahoa's?"

Che frowned a little as his brain sorted through case data. "We were able to recover forty-seven slugs and eighty-three brass casings. All from a 9mm. I checked to see if the same type of bullets had been used in other crimes, but so far they're clean."

"Any possibility the slugs came from an H&K MP5?" Sandy asked. She was horrified at the evidence that was pointing directly at Chief Dann. "Those things are deadly fast when they're on full auto."

The corner of McGarrett's mouth twitched as he tried not smile at the look Sandy was getting from both Che and Danny. Sandy had been HPD's all around pistol champion for the last four years. There wasn't a weapon in HPD's armory that she hadn't been trained to use, including the MP5's.

"I suppose so, but I'd have to have the weapon to be sure. If you don't need anything else, I'll head out to Bollinger's residence and give the crew a hand."

"Go ahead. Thanks, Che," McGarrett said. "Alright, Ms. Mendoza, what did the silicon brain turn up for us this time?"

Pacita passed around copies of computer data. "The first thing I did was access the county clerk's files for any records of property owned by the Chief. Turn to page two please, you will find he owns two homes; one in Pearl City, and a condo in Waikiki. That's just here on Oahu. You will also find a condo on Maui, and two empty plots on the Big Island near Hilo. The house in Pearl City is the one he inherited when his parents died. The condos are recent acquisitions, paid for in cash. There is also a house out near Koko Head bought by the Chief and his wife back in the mid-sixties and the mortgage was paid off in '86. The house was transferred into his wife's name about four months ago, at about the same time she filed for divorce."

"I don't suppose you know the reason for the divorce?" Danny asked. He knew how much the Honolulu Chief of Police made. It paid well, but not condos on Waikiki and Maui well.

"The old standby," Pacita said. "Irreconcilable differences. I made a few calls and discovered the difference they can't reconcile is a twenty-three-year-old stripper named, get this, Sunny Dai, and that's Dai with an 'i'. If it weren't so pathetically typical it would be funny. That was just in the public records search. Except for the house in Pearl City and on Koko Head, he acquired most of this properly starting about three years ago, shortly after James Rego returned to Hawaii." She paused for a minute, thinking. "I did some data mining, every bit of property was bought with cash, including the condo. That's public record and I didn't need a warrant. I wondered if the Chief had some kind of windfall, you know, like winning the lottery, or scoring major at the tables in Vegas, or having a rich uncle die and leave him a fortune. Couldn't find a thing. And before I forget, in addition to the Maybach that I want first dibs at when it goes to auction, he bought his wife a new Jaguar and a couple of Honda's for his kids. And Ms. Dai is driving around in a new Miata that I don't think she paid for by stripping."

McGarrett dropped his head in his hands and closed his eyes, wondering how much worse things were going to get.

"Sandy," he said, "See if Ms. Gleeson is still here. Pacita, go with her. I want warrants to search everything with the Chief's name on it and I want it now. Bank accounts, credit cards, the works. Bring me the book. And find an excuse to bring in the stripper, Ms. Dai, if that's even her real name."

"Right away, sir," Sandy said. She and Pacita exited, leaving only Danny.

"You okay there, boss?" Danny asked. "This is getting to you, I can tell. We knew there was a dirty cop in HPD, that's the only way Rego would have known Chin was undercover. I don't think either of us expected it to go all the way to the top of the food chain."

"I don't understand, Danno. He had a wife and four kids. He's two years away from an honorable retirement, but instead, he loses his wife over a stripper. Is this the real Chief Dann, or was the one we knew all a front?"

"You got me, Steve. Maybe he's having some sort of mid-life crisis. I don't know. Eventually, we're going to have to let HPD in on this. Someone we can trust. Right now, I wouldn't trust any of the brass with a ticket book, let alone the information Pacita just dug up."

"I'm thinking Deputy Chief Sakai. That man's so straight you could use him as a ruler."

"Rumor from the coconut wireless says he's next in line for chief when Dann retires," Danny said.

"I think it's more than rumor," McGarrett said, suddenly feeling older than time. "If I start chasing strippers, do me a favor and shoot me."

"Steve, I won't have to. Maggie will do it for me. Cheer up, I do have some good news. Beverly found a house she likes that's in our price range."

"Finally! I know you both were getting tired of looking. Where's it located?"

Danny gave Steve the address he'd written down. "Not far from Diamondhead. I swear that address sounds familiar, only I can't place it. Probably from the shock of finding out who the realtor is, none other than Marge Clayton."

Steve tried hard not to laugh. "That old madam is still trying to hustle real estate?" He took a second look at the address. "Danno, this address should be familiar. It's where we arrested Rego."

"You're kidding?" Danny asked with raised eyebrows.

"It's the beach house Rego was renting. Kini had told Pahoa he'd rented the house so they could have a place to be alone."

"You mean a place they could have sex without Billy Swan ratting them out to Daddy?"

"Only I doubt Rego bothered to tell Kini or Pahoa about the strippers and the hookers on those nights when he had 'special' entertainment brought in."

"Steve," Danny said frowning slightly. "When Beverly called she said the house originally had four bedrooms, but one had been converted into a media room."

Steve stood up, snapping his fingers as everything clicked. "Danno, earlier today I asked Sandy what she thought about the case. She said she thinks that Rego was being bankrolled by someone on the Mainland with enough money to buy their way into HPD. I have a feeling she's right. What if the money came from the Mainland, and those that couldn't be bought could be blackmailed by being caught on tape in compromising positions?"

"If you are talking about special entertainment provided by strippers, like a certain irreconcilable difference between the Chief and his soon to be ex-wife, then yeah. But I thought the lab gave the place a good going over after the arrest. I know they found where all the money was stashed. I always wondered why Rego left that much cash lying around if he was going to run unless it wasn't his to take. Makes me wonder what else he had stashed that we haven't found yet. Should I get a warrant to search the place?"

"We won't need one. You're a potential buyer. Give Marge a call and ask if you can see the house this afternoon. Tell her it's now or never because you're in the middle of a case and you're on your way. Call Beverly and have her meet us there. Make it sound like all you want to do is look at the place as potential buyers."

"Can do," Danny said. "According to Beverly, the owner is anxious to sell and move back to the mainland."

"Probably before someone from the Mainland shows up and starts putting holes in the walls looking for the money locked up in evidence. I'll get Deputy Chief Sakai on the phone and have him meet us at the house, just in case we turn up anything interesting." Steve said, looking happier than he had since Chin's death. "Makes you wonder what other surprises we're going to be in for today."

"All this because Sandy had a hunch?" Danny asked?

"Yes. Sandy had a hunch. Now let's see how it plays out."

Danny left to make the calls to the realtor and to Beverly. Marge told Danny she was still at the house, awaiting another potential buyer, but reassured Danny that he and Beverly were first on the list if they were ready to make an offer. After he hung up with Marge, he called Beverly and told her he could get away to have a look at the house and he wanted her there to see it with him. Beverly agreed to meet him at the house. Danny could tell she was tired be the sound of her voice and he knew she should have been resting. Maybe, if they were lucky, this could be their dream home after all.

Steve called Deputy Chief Sakai on his personal cell phone, only to get voice mail. Chief Sakai was a divorced father of three, and on the weekends he had his kids he didn't answer his work phone unless it was extremely important. McGarrett knew Sakai would call back as soon as he got the message. McGarrett was hoping the call wouldn't interfere with Sakai's time with his kids.

He thought about his own family, of Maggie and Tilda here in Honolulu and Cooper, stationed at the Pentagon, and the rest of his extended _ohana_. Everyone would be in the Islands for the upcoming Christmas holidays. He was looking forward to the celebration.

But before the celebration, he had a job to do. He had found the traitor in HPD. Now he needed hard evidence to prove the accusations.

As he hung up the phone, he could have sworn he heard the buzzing of a thousand tiny wings.

O-O-O-O-O

Michael was getting testy. Like all toddlers, he considered himself to be the center of a very small universe; population: Michael. He was getting ready to voice his displeasure when Susan obligingly presented him with a sippy cup filled with ice cold pineapple juice.

"Settle down, Little One," Susan said as she checked his diaper. He'd need a change as soon as he was done with his drink.

Maggie was still staring at the quilt. She had spent the last hour doing an internet search for information on the Hawaiian monarchy. At the age of 52, after the death of her brother, David Kalakaua, Queen Lili'uokalani was the first woman and the last monarch of the Hawaiian Kingdom. She reigned from January 28, 1891, until January 17, 1893, when pro-American forces overthrew the Kingdom of Hawaii and established a provisional government in its place. The Queen was arrested and charged with having knowledge of a "Royalist plot" to overthrow the new government. Convicted by a military tribunal, she was sentenced to five years of hard labor. The sentence was later reduced, and she was confined to her bedroom in the second-floor corner of Iolani Palace. Allowed only one visitor a day, she spent her time reading, doing needlework, and writing music. Queen Liliuokalani dictated in her will that all of her possessions and properties be sold upon her death. The funds raised went to the Queen Lili'uokalani Children's Trust to help orphaned and indigent children and is still in existence today. The Queen's Quilt was one of the items sold, the names of the people possessing it lost in the confusion of the bombing of Pearl Harbor and the American build up during and after World War Two.

"Any idea what we're supposed to do with this?" Susan asked. "I could call Duke's mom. She knows more Hawaiian history than either of us."

Maggie had met Duke's mom a few times and couldn't reconcile the sweet, grandmotherly Hawaiian lady with the straight-laced religious fanatic who had disowned her granddaughter when the girl got pregnant at seventeen.

"Not today," Maggie said. "She'll decide she needs to pray over the quilt and call in her Prayer Warriors. I'll have a prayer meeting in my sewing room and we still won't know what to do with the quilt. I'm calling Alisha Jamison. She's on the board of every museum in the state. She'll know what to do."

From his playpen, Michael spotted Tilda and began shouting. "T-Da!" as Tilda lifted him from the playpen and onto the floor.

"Can we go outside, Auntie Susan?" Tilda asked.

"As soon as I get him changed," Susan said, smiling at her little helper. "Only stay in the yard, no going to the beach without an adult."

"I know, Auntie Susan, Daddy says that sometimes there's a rip current off the beach that could be dangerous."

Susan smiled down at the solemn little face wondering if 'Daddy' was Chin or Steve. "Do you like living here?"

Tilda nodded in response. "I still miss my family, but I like living by the ocean and I love my new mom and dad. And my little brother."

"Good girl. Time to get Michael a fresh diaper. I can't wait to get him potty trained. I am so tired of diapers!"

Maggie came back into the sewing room. "Mission accomplished. Alisha is on her way and she's stopping by the Bishop to pick up an expert on Hawaiian quilting. She says that if what we have is the Queen's quilt there's going to be a lot of happy people on Oahu tonight. The quilt went missing after Pearl Harbor. I would love to know where it's been!"

Susan finished changing the baby, knowing he would have been happy running around naked. Her little one was turning out to be quite the exhibitionist. "Okay, you two, out you go. Tilda, see if you can get him to sit still long enough to put on some sunscreen. Not that it's matters, five minutes in the sun and he's as brown as his daddy."

Susan and Maggie watched as Tilda and Michael went outside. "I notice she's calling you and Steve mom and dad now," Susan said. "When did that happen?"

"Would you believe about an hour ago? It's going to take some getting used to, that's for sure." Maggie watched the two children playing in the sunshine. "She's still having bad dreams. I'm hoping they go away soon."

"I think she's going to just fine. She's where she needs to be," Susan said as she pulled on the white cotton gloves for a closer look at the stitching on the quilt. "I can see how you forgot about having the quilt. First Michael is born, and a month later Lin passed away, and then Chin was killed. It's been nonstop these last two years."

"Let's not forget Cooper and Sophie getting engaged, or Lillie going off to Vassar, or Eddie getting commissioned by the Army."

"Not to mention Danny and Beverly are having twins. Do you think this really is the Queen's Quilt?" Susan was bending down to examine the stitches.

"I think it could be. The fabric looks authentic for the time period." Maggie had done a quick web search as soon as soon as the quilt had been unfolded and laid out on the cutting table. "See where the names are embroidered? If this is the quilt, those are the names of Queen Liliuokalani's friends and ladies in waiting. I couldn't find a list on the internet, but I'll bet there's one at the Bishop Museum."

"If this was made by Queen Liliuokalani, then it's an authentic piece of Hawaiian history. This is getting exciting! What are you going to do with it?"

"I suppose I will give it to the Museum. There's no way I could keep it. Besides, the quilt is going to need a lot of TLC and restoration work that is way above my skill level. You see those silk bands? Those are from cigars! I'll bet they still smell like tobacco. This thing is over a hundred years old if those dates are real. Can you imagine what it was like, being held prisoner in your own home while your country goes from being a sovereign nation to a colony?" Maggie looked up from the quilt as the intercom chimed to let her know someone was at the gate. "That should be Alisha. I'll let them in while you round up the kiddies. After all, if Tilda hadn't found the quilt buried in The Stash it'd still be MIA."

Twenty minutes later Alisha Jameson and Noella Healani, curator of textiles for the Bishop Museum, were staring at the quilt spread out on Maggie's cutting table. Ms. Healani was in tears as she touched the Queen's embroidery with white cotton gloved fingers.

"I can't believe you found the Queen's Quilt, and at a thrift store of all places!" Once Mrs. Healani had gotten over the shock of seeing the work of the last monarch of Hawaii, she had wanted to know everything Maggie and Susan could tell her about how they had found the quilt.

"At a place called Sukie's on Friday the thirteenth," Maggie said, once again retelling the story of the last two years. "This really is the Queen's quilt! What do I do now? I can't keep it. It belongs to the people of Hawaii!"

Mrs. Healani was practically vibrating with excitement. She was a short, round woman of fifty with a passion for Hawaiian quilting and needlework she'd learned at her grandmother's knee. She had been skeptical when Alisha had called to tell her the Queen's Quilt had been found. She had expected one of the many bad copies of the original quilt and a wannabe Hawaiian quilter who had taken one class on paper piecing and thought they were an expert. She had been pleasantly surprised to find a woman who knew almost as much about fabric and fiber as she did.

"Mrs. McGarrett, I need to make a few phone calls and then the Quilter's Guild will come over to verify this is the Queen's Quilt. I want to leave the quilt here until I can arrange transportation to the museum. The quilt is fragile and the less we handle it the better. I hope you don't mind company because every Islander who hears you've found the quilt is going to want to have a look at it."

"So much for a quiet afternoon sewing," Susan said. "Duke's mom is going to have a fit when she finds out."

"May as well call her and the prayer warriors to come have a look," Maggie said. "Mrs. Healani, make your calls while I get started on the snacks. Alisha, I'm not sure what to do next, so I'm going to revert to my Southern upbringing and put out the refreshments."

"I'm going to call my husband. He will want to make a formal announcement and Noella can fill him in on the details," Alisha said. "I can't believe the quilt has been found. It's been missing since World War Two and we were afraid it may have been destroyed during the bombing. It's almost like finding the Holy Grail."

Everyone went to make the appropriate calls. Maggie thought about calling Steve but decided against it. Rego's apparent suicide was going to have the detectives working overtime and she knew he'd be ready for some good news when he got home that evening.

Tilda was reading to Michael. Maggie and Susan had the same ideas about kids and books. The younger they started reading, the more they would want to learn.

"You heard the ladies. Tilda, you finding that quilt in the back of the closet is going to make a lot of Hawaiians very happy. Let's get everything in the sewing room put away." The little girl put down the book and took Michael by the hand.

"Come on, Little Brother," Tilda said. "Let's go put the fabric away."

Maggie and Susan watched the two children as they put the pink fabric back where it belonged.

" _Ohana,"_ Susan said. "The family you make. I always thought being over forty and pregnant would have been the worse thing that could happen. And now I've got my little one and I can't imagine life without him, or Duke, or the rest of this whole crazy Hawaiian _ohana."_

" _Ohana,"_ Maggie whispered, almost prayerfully. "I like that word. _Ohana."_

The doorbell rang. Maggie hadn't bothered to close the front gates, knowing she'd be at it all afternoon if she did. She opened the door to find a group of elderly Islanders.

"We're here to see the Queen's Quilt," said the white-haired lady who appeared to be the group's spokesperson.

"Come on in," Maggie said. "Susan, it looks like word has gone out over the coconut wireless. Show these folks where the quilt is while I put out some refreshments. I have a feeling we're about to have a lot of company."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

O-O-O-O-O

Beverly got there first. Her white Hyundai Santa Fe was parked by the curb behind a black Lincoln Town Car with Billy Swann sitting behind the wheel, waiting patiently for Kapi Pahoa. Pahoa was talking to Marge Clayton. Marge and Pahoa were old friends. Rumor had it Marge had sold her trick books and client list to Pahoa when she 'retired' from the escort business.

Every cop instinct in Steve's body began vying for attention.

"Marge said she had another prospective buyer coming to look at the place," Danny said. "I didn't think it was going to be Pahoa. You don't suppose he wants to buy this place for Kini?" The last thing he wanted to do was get into a bidding war with Pahoa.

"Doubtful," McGarrett said, getting out of the car. "Something's up."

"Agreed," Danny said, looking around for Beverly and frowning when he didn't see her.

"Mr. McGarrett, Mr. Williams," Marge gushed. "It's so nice to see you again! Mr. Williams, your wife and Miss Pahoa are inside having a look around and no doubt discussing babies."

"I was wondering where she'd gotten off to," Danny said. "If you don't mind, I'll go find her."

Pahoa spoke up. "Mr. Williams, could you give them a few more minutes alone? Kini and your wife seem to have bonded over impending motherhood. My household staff is mostly male and Kini hasn't had the opportunity to speak with other women about her condition."

"They have ten minutes, then I'm going to find my wife," Danny said.

"That will be sufficient," Pahoa said.

"Why are you here, Pahoa?" McGarrett asked. "And don't tell me it's because you want to make an offer on this place."

"That is not why I am here. I know that when your men and HPD searched this place after Rego was arrested you found a large sum of money. Money that I know did not come from _Kumu_ sources. I suspect you are as interested in where he got the money as I."

"That thought did cross my mind. Rego wasn't in Hawaii long enough to skim that much money without being caught and if he had been, he'd have been fish food months ago," McGarrett said, giving Pahoa a sharp look. The tall Hawaiian looked uncharacteristically old and tired. There were new lines on his face and dark circles under his eyes.

"The money you found did not come from Hawaii. It was sourced from the Mainland. I spoke to my attorney earlier today. He says there is nothing connected to Rego, the money, or the information I am about to give to you that incriminates me or any of my associates. I only regret that I did now know of this sooner."

"Regret from the _Kumu_?" Danny asked with raised eyebrows. Marge was sitting in the shade of the golf umbrella pretending to sip fruit juice and gin through a straw. This was definitely going in her memoirs.

"Yes, Mr. Williams, regret. I have learned Rego was owned by the haoles in San Francisco, who were in turn owned by more haoles on your East Coast. He was going to bring more foreigners to Hawaii. To do this, he used me, and even worse, he used my daughter, to get a foothold into _Kumu._ For the rest, he used greed and extortion. The money you found was to be used for bribes, for whom, I do not know, although I suspect there are members of HPD currently living far beyond their means."

"Do you have proof of any of this?" McGarrett asked.

"Not at this time, but I know where to find it. The only thing I ask is that you keep my daughter out of this. She has been hurt enough already."

Danny was looking at his watch. "Times up, Pahoa. I'm going to find my wife."

As he walked past the card table, Marge handed him a brochure listing the home's features as well as a floor plan. As interesting as the whole afternoon had become, she had a dinner date with a widower from Maui who owned two apartment complexes and several small rental homes she was hoping to add to her property management portfolio and failing that, he was good for a night on the town and few laughs. Either way was fine with her.

O-O-O-O-O

Beverly had been shopping at her favorite bookstore when Danny had called. She was closer to the house and got there minutes after Pahoa. When Kini saw Beverly's very obvious baby bump, she had given her the first happy smile Pahoa had seen from his daughter since Rego's arrest. Marge did the introductions. Beverly knew Pahoa by reputation, but had never met him as the _Kumu_ , under Pahoa's leadership, stayed off the military reservations. She knew Pahoa was the one responsible for Rego's arrest for Chin's murder and an outspoken proponent of the Sovereignty movement, although she wasn't seeing a known criminal. What she was seeing was a father concerned with his only daughter's well-being.

"It's good to meet you, Lt. Williams," Kini said. "When is your baby due?"

"You mean babies," Beverly said, taking the girls outstretched hand in hers. "It's twins, a boy, and a girl. I've got eight weeks to go."

"I'm not due until March," Kini said. "I'm hoping for a boy."

"All I wanted was a healthy baby. I would have been happy with either and now I'm getting both and my husband couldn't be more excited. The only thing is we really need to find a bigger place soon."

"If you'd like, I could show you around," Kini said with a sad little smile. "My boyfriend was renting this house. I wanted to take one last look before it was sold."

"Could you, please?" Beverly asked. "Mrs. Clayton gave me the tour this morning and my husband is on his way over now."

"This way," Kini said, linking her arm through Beverly's. "I will be fine, Papa. Lt. Williams can tell me what to expect."

"Please call me Beverly. That Lt. Williams thing gets old when I'm off duty."

Pahoa nodded his assent and watched as the women made their way down the walk, wondering exactly when it was his little girl had become a woman.

"Underneath that horrible carpet the floors are made of stone from New England," Kini said as they entered the house. "The stone was used as ballast in the trade ships and offloaded here when they took on their cargos of sandalwood and whale oil. When the sandalwood forests were gone, and the whale oil no longer needed, they switched to pineapple, sugar, tapa cloth, and just about anything made here in the Islands."

"You seem to know your Hawaiian history," Beverly said. "I'm still learning."

"Papa made sure my brothers and I knew about the past. He says that's the only way we will ever have a future."

"Your papa is a very smart man. Mrs. Clayton couldn't tell me much about the wood used in the doors or the cabinets. I think it's koa wood, but I could be wrong."

"The doors and most of the woodwork are made from koa wood. This house was built in 1968 but the doors and a lot of the fixtures were salvaged from a home built by the missionaries. I love the master suite. It's got its own bath with a huge tub and a separate shower and the main bath has a claw foot tub that is just right for soaking with a good book."

"Sounds like you were happy here."

"I was until I found out the truth. I should have asked more questions, but I was in love and trusted the wrong man."

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, sweetie," Beverly said.

"It's okay, really. There's a half bath off the dining room. Have you seen the media room? It's the room next to the master suite. If things had worked out, it would have been a perfect nursery."

"I was thinking the same thing when I saw the room. It's got a great view of the ocean and opens onto the lanai," she placed a gentle hand on Kini's shoulder. "You don't have to do this if it's too painful. I can show myself around."

"It's something I have to do," Kini said as tears flowed down her cheeks. "Can you tell me about your husband, your babies' father? Is he a kind man? Has he ever lied to you?"

"Sweetie, you sound so sad," Beverly said pulling the girl into an awkward hug because her baby bump was getting in the way. "It can't be that terrible."

"Yes, it can," Kini sobbed. "Jimmy is dead and I'm going to have a baby and there are people who want to kill my father and I think I'm the only one who can stop them!"

Beverly gently stroked the girls long dark hair. "Honey listen to me for a second. My husband is with Five-O and he's going to be here soon. Maybe you should talk to him."

"No! I am tired of men. They either lie to me or treat me like a child!"

"Honey, please, stop crying. You don't have to talk to anyone you don't want to." Someone had staged the house with a few bits of furniture. Beverly led Kini to a not very comfortable sofa strategically placed to hide a huge stain on the horrible green shag carpeting dating back to when the house was first built. She sat down next to the girl, taking Kini's hands in hers as she did. "Listen, honey, I know what it's like to be young and scared and not really know where to turn, or who to trust. A long time ago, when I was very young, too young if you must know, I was married to a man who beat me. When he found out I was pregnant, he beat me so badly I lost my baby. That's when I decided I'd had enough. As soon as I was well enough to pass the physical I joined the Navy to get as far away from him and Alabama as I could. After the Gulf War, when my ship was on her way back to San Diego, I was raped by another sailor. After that I didn't trust anyone male. I didn't date, I didn't even talk to men when I was off duty if I could avoid it. I kept to myself and hid from life. Until I met Danny. He is the sweetest, kindest, most gentle person I have ever met. As difficult as it was for me to trust a man, from the moment I met him, I knew he was one of the good ones and that I could trust him with my life, and now I am trusting him with the lives of my children. I never thought I'd be able to do that. You can trust him with anything you want to tell him."

Kini had stopped crying. "Are you sure?"

"Surer than I have ever been of anything in my life."

"There is something you need to see, then," Kini said, reaching out a hand to help Beverly get awkwardly to her feet.

Beverly looked up to see Danny standing in the doorway. "How long have you been standing there?" she asked.

"Long enough," he said. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

"Your wife says I can trust you, Mr. Williams. I have something to show you."

"That means can the cop act for a few minutes," Beverly said.

"For you, anything. Come on, Miss Pahoa. Let's see what you have."

"This way please."

She led them to the former media room. All the electronics had been removed, some by HPD and the rest by the owner. The walls had been repaired and repainted a soft beige. The room had once been a bedroom featuring a closet that ran the length of one wall. Kini opened the sliding door.

"The policed missed this when they searched. It looks like a wall, only it's not. It's a removable panel. Mr. Williams, I'm not tall enough to reach. Could you remove the bracket holding up the shelf? It won't fall."

Danny reached up and grasped the bracket. To his surprise, it wasn't holding up anything and had been held up by velcro. "Now what?" he asked.

Kini removed an oddly shaped key from a silver chain she had been wearing and gave it to Danny. "There's a keyhole on the top left close to where the bracket was. This key opens the panel."

Danny did as he was told. The panel ran from underneath the bracket to the floor of the back wall. At the turn of the key, a spring pushed the panel away from the wall. After a few experimental pulls, the entire panel came off, exposing a series of small shelves holding CD's, VCR tapes, several ledgers, and bundles of wrapped cash. He let out a low whistle.

"Those books have the names of the people who want to kill my father. I shouldn't have trusted Jimmy. I didn't know how dishonest he was. I am so sorry," she broke out into fresh tears as Beverly embraced her once more.

"Miss Pahoa," Danny said as gently as he could, "you didn't do anything wrong. It's over. What you have done today is going to go a long way towards making things right. No matter what you may think or may feel, you have done the right thing."

"See, honey," Beverly said. "I told you everything would work out."

"Beverly, could you have Mr. Pahoa and Steve come in here a minute?" Danny asked.

"Steve's here? Whatever for?" Beverly wanted to know.

"Sandy had a hunch," was all he said.

O-O-O-O-O

Beverly was surprised to see Deputy Chief Sakai waiting with McGarrett and Pahoa. She knew at once something was in the works. She could feel the charge in the atmosphere on her skin and in the air.

Pahoa's only concern was for his daughter. "Where is Kini?" he asked, frowning.

"She is still inside with my husband. She's fine, a little emotional, but that's to be expected. It's a hormonal thing."

"Danno's with her?" Steve asked.

"Yes, he wants you and Mr. Pahoa to join them, please. I suppose Chief Sakai should tag along. Kini has something you all need to see."

"This had better be worth interrupting my weekend off," Sakai said.

"I think it will be," Beverly said. "This is all way out of my jurisdiction and above my pay grade. I think I'm going to have a seat under the umbrella with Ms. Clayton and have something cold to drink." To her surprise, Pahoa took her arm and helped her to the chair.

"Thank you, Lt. Williams," he said. "For my daughter. If there is ever anything I can do for you, please let me know."

"You are welcome, Mr. Pahoa," she said as she sat down in the shade, wondering exactly what that meant.

"I have pineapple juice and raspberry tea," Marge said. "And if you want, I can add a drop of gin. It looks like you've had a long day."

"Plain pineapple juice is fine. I'm off alcohol until after I deliver."

McGarrett and Sakai were both looking expectantly at Pahoa.

"Shall we, gentlemen?" Pahoa asked.

Sakai reached back and unsnapped the safety strap of his off-duty weapon. He didn't trust Pahoa and made sure he was behind the man when they went inside.

They found Danny, wearing a pair of latex gloves going over the ledgers he'd found in the closet. He always carried extra gloves, and he passed those over to McGarrett and Sakai.

"Steve, it looks like Sandy's hunch paid off. I don't know if Rego kept these ledgers for blackmail or if his bosses in San Francisco wanted an accounting of where the money was going. It's all here, names and dates and amounts. I don't know what's on the CD's or the tapes, but I'm going to hazard a guess Rego had hidden cameras filming the guests at the parties he held. I've already called Che in. He should be here with the lab crew in a few minutes. This proves everything we were thinking." He passed the ledger over to McGarrett.

McGarrett looked down at the page Danny indicated. "Is Chief Sakai's name listed anywhere?" He asked. "Forgive me for asking that, Nick, but as my Little _Menehune_ would say, the midden is about to hit the windmill."

"If it is, I haven't found it," Danny said.

"Steve, what in the hell are you talking about?" Sakai demanded.

"I think I'll let Mr. Pahoa explain if you don't mind."

Pahoa had his arm around his daughter. "Jimmy Rego was sent here by the San Francisco mob. They want to set up shop here in the Islands. So far, HPD and Five-O had managed to thwart. As a result, they decided to use a subtler approach. They sent in one man, although I hesitate to call him a man, to infiltrate _Kumu_. He was instructed to find out which HPD and Five-O officers could be bought and to buy them, no matter how much money it took. He struck out with Five-O but found several high ranking HPD officers and at least a dozen patrol officers willing to accept money to look the other way. Officers with enough rank to know when the raids would be taking place and who was working undercover."

McGarrett's jaw was clenched tight. There was only one man on the list who could have alerted Rego that Chin was working undercover. The man who had walked into his office that morning and told him everyone's life would be easier if Pahoa was dead.

"Pahoa," Sakai said. "I know how you operate, and while there is no doubt you are a criminal, you have never been known to lie to anyone. I am going to ask you one time, and one time only, did you know Chin Ho Kelly's cover had been compromised?"

Pahoa shook his head slowly. "I did not. I was not even aware Mr. Kelly was working undercover until he was murdered. That is not how I do business. I did not learn of any of this until last week when I offered to pay Rego's legal expenses if he promised to never contact my daughter or my grandchild. Do you know what it is like to see your child's heart broken and know there isn't one damn thing you can do about it? Then this morning when someone opened fire on my home, Kini told me everything she knew. She is afraid that I will be killed, like Mr. Kelly and Rego and anyone who got in the way of these haoles from the Mainland."

"Miss Pahoa," McGarrett said gently. "You have nothing to worry about. As of this minute you and your father are in protective custody until we can get this sorted out."

"That will not be necessary, Mr. McGarrett. As soon as arrangements are made, my daughter and I are leaving Hawaii."

"Not until you both have been deposed by the DA and the Attorney General," Sakai said.

There was a commotion outside as the lab crew filed into the house, waiting for instructions.

"Any more hidden compartments that we need to know about?" Danny asked.

Kini shook her head. "There could be others but that's the only one I knew about."

"Thank you, Miss Pahoa. You have my gratitude," McGarrett said. "Danno, I think you can let Che take over. You may want to go talk to Marge before she goes home. At the price this place is listed, you need to make an offer quick."

"On it,' Danny said. "Che, it's all yours."

"Steve," Sakai said. "I have a feeling we just kicked over a hornet's nest. The names on that list go all the way to the top."

"It looks like HPD is going to have to clean house."

"How do you do it? Find officers who can't be bought?"

"Just lucky I guess," McGarrett said, thanking whatever gods that were in the area for the people he was fortunate enough to work with.

From outside a car door slammed, and Danny was heard shouting for someone to "Drop it! Now!" Two shots rang out, seconds apart, followed by a woman screaming.

McGarrett and Sakai drew their weapons.

"Stay here," McGarrett told Pahoa, "and get away from the windows!"

Police officers, firemen, and soldiers are the only people conditioned to run towards the sound of trouble instead of away from it. They ran down the hall to the open front door.

Danny was holding Beverly, who was sobbing uncontrollably while Marge seemed to have fainted.

Another look told him why.

Chief Dann lay face down in the grass. An H&K MP5 lay beside him just past his outstretched hands.

Sakai ran over to the Chief's body to check for a pulse, and finding none, he rolled the larger man over to check the gunshots.

Danny had put both rounds from the .357 through the Chief's heart.

Sakai was on his phone, calling in the shooting and ordering HPD backup. McGarrett was checking on Marge. She was starting to come around. McGarrett helped her to her feet and knew she wasn't injured when she asked for the bottle of gin in the cooler. Danny was holding Beverly with one arm, the other was hanging limply at his side, still holding his service weapon.

"What happened, Danno?"

"The Chief pulled up a minute ago, and got out of the car, holding the gun. I heard him cock it and told him to drop it. He didn't. That's when I shot him. Is he dead?"

"Yeah," McGarrett said. He looked over to where Marge had lost all pretense of hiding her liquor and was drinking the gin straight from the bottle.

"Lab crew's already here. Take Beverly inside and check on Pahoa. I don't want him sneaking out the back way in the commotion."

"Will do. Is Marge okay?" He asked.

"Okay, yes, sober, I doubt it. She's not going to make a very reliable witness. I'll have someone drive her home."

"What are we going to do about Pahoa and his daughter?"

"I'll have Billy Swann drive them to the Palace with an HPD escort. Pahoa may not carry a gun, but I know Swann has a concealed carry permit. As loyal as he is to Pahoa, I feel sorry for anyone who tries to get to him with Swann in the area."

McGarrett could hear the sirens cutting through the quiet afternoon as the squad cars hurried to the crime scene and Danny helped Beverly inside.

Sakai came over to stand by McGarrett. "If someone had told me yesterday that the Chief was dirty, I'd have called them a liar. If this doesn't beat all, I don't know what does. I checked the weapon. It's from the HPD armory. It's loaded, the safety is off, and he had a round in the chamber. I don't even want to think about how bad it could have been if Danny hadn't shot him."

Swann had gotten out of the Lincoln. He asked McGarrett if he could attend to Pahoa and Kini. McGarrett told him to go ahead, but not to plan on going anywhere for a while. Swann nodded and went inside.

More squad cars were arriving, along with an ambulance that wouldn't be needed and the coroner's van, which would.

Marge, steadied by gin, was complaining she'd never get the place sold now.

Sakai asked her how much gin she'd drunk.

"Not enough," she said, uncapping the bottle and draining it in one long swallow.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

O-O-O-O-O

The day had turned into a long one. It had started out with the apparent suicide of the James 'Jimmy' Rego and had ended with the death of HPD Chief William E. Dann and the arrest of an assorted lot of police officers and two attorneys from the state AG's office. Between the information found when Five-O and Che's lab techs had searched the Rego's beach house and the confession of Deputy Chief Dennis Elwood the story was finally pieced together. Elwood had been mortified when he had gone to one of Rego's parties with the Chief. He said one of the strippers had given him an unwanted lap dance that had been taped. It was either take the money or his wife of thirty years would receive photographs and tapes in the mail. He still had the money, every last cent of it, hidden in a toolbox in his garage.

There had been quite a panic in the upper echelons of HPD when Five-O had started cracking down on _Kumu's_ minor operations and criminal enterprises. The Chief and the rest of HPD's tarnished brass knew it was only a matter of time before Five-O would start taking down some of the bigger operations and they could not let that happen. Discovering Chin Ho Kelly was undercover in Chinatown was all Dann needed. If Kelly's cover was blown, then McGarrett would have to start over from scratch. What the Chief hadn't expected, Elwood stated, was that Rego would kill Kelly, rough him up, maybe, but not kill him.

They had to break off then, because Elwood was sobbing so hard he couldn't speak. Sandy got him a cold soda and waited patiently as he drank it. Then she took both his hands in hers. "Then what happened?" she asked in a soft gentle voice as McGarrett, Sakai, and John Manicote looked on in astonishment. Sandy was a natural when it came to getting suspects to speak.

Deputy Chief Elwood continued his story. They all went into panic mode when Chin was murdered. Elwood had gone home and contemplated suicide but had decided that was the cowards way out. He then started his own private investigation, making note of names and dates and places and events. He knew Five-O would not stop until Chin's killer was in jail and after Rego was arrested, they had all breathed a sigh of relief. McGarrett had the killer, they could all breathe easier, but he would continue gathering information.

That was until this morning when Rego was found hanging in his cell.

Elwood knew Rego had been murdered, and he knew it had to be by one of the jail guards. He had no idea which one, until the call went out that Curtis Bollinger had shot himself. He knew damn well Bollinger hadn't committed suicide. Bollinger had an ex-wife and a daughter with Leukemia. If he shot himself, his daughter would lose insurance coverage, and his life insurance wouldn't pay. Dann had paid Bollinger to let him walk out of HPD's armory with the two H&K MP5's and had used that as leverage to force Bollinger to sabotage the security cameras and kill Rego, going so far as to furnish the homemade rope he was to use to make it look like a suicide. He had paid him with 100K in unmarked bills, that Bollinger had mailed to his ex-wife on the mainland. Elwood swore he had nothing to do with Bollinger's murder. That was Chief Dann. He'd gone to Bollinger's apartment under the pretext of bringing the Samoan police officer a bonus.

Forensics had pieced together what had happened next. The two men, both fairly large, had been standing face to face. Bollinger was in his uniform pants and a tee shirt, his gear on the sofa, with his unholstered service weapon lying on the end table. All the Chief had to do was reach down, pick up the weapon, and fire, putting one round through Bollinger's heart at very close range. He'd caught the big man before he fell, but blood had dripped from the wound onto the carpet before Dann could get him to the recliner and put the gun in his hand. It was set up to look like a suicide, but the Chief hadn't known Bollinger was left-handed and put the weapon in the wrong hand.

After that, the Chief had gone to three of the patrol officers on Rego's payroll. He had given them the MP5's and the ammo with instructions to shoot the hell out of Pahoa's house, killing Pahoa and whoever else got in the way. He'd been royally pissed when he found out the only one killed was an unarmed guard provided by a private security company. He'd gone to see McGarrett on a fishing expedition, just to see what Five-O knew and weren't sharing with HPD.

The Chief was panicking and nearing a psychotic break. He had called Elwood, who had logged the call and written down a summery of the conversation, stating that the Chief wasn't making sense and wondering if he should intervene. He had tried to call Dann back several times that day only to have his calls go straight to voice mail.

The Chief had reclaimed the two MP5's from his minions berating them for missing Pahoa and telling them to get the hell out of Honolulu. This McGarrett knew because all three of them had been picked up at the airport, each one waiting for a separate flight back to the Mainland. They were currently cooling their heels in a holding cell, all three of them lawyering up as soon as the cuffs were snapped closed.

What happened next was all theory and conjecture. Dann had gone back to his condo on Waikiki to find Sunny Dai packing. She was tired of Honolulu and tired of an old fat man and was on her way to Europe with her new boyfriend, nice knowing you, here are the keys to my car. The lab crew, sent to search the condo after Dann was killed, found her body on the bed next to her open suitcase; her passport and plane tickets in her purse. She's been strangled.

Dann had met Sunny at a party at Rego's. She'd been young and lithe and blonde and beautiful, everything his wife was not. He'd got home late that night and was soon a regular at Sunny's apartment. That was when Rego moved in for the kill. Rego had them on tape, doing all sorts of things he was certain the Chief's wife would not approve of. The Chief really hadn't been that hard to buy off. He and his wife had been going through a bad patch the last few years. Sunny made him feel young and alive. He carefully hid the money in real estate investments and told his wife they had paid off in spades. He may have even gotten away with the affair if he'd stuck to nooner's and Sunday mornings when his wife went to church. She had gotten suspicious when he started spending too many nights away from home. She had borrowed a girlfriend's car and followed him one afternoon. The next day, she filed for a divorce and had the locks to the house changed.

Dr. Bishop would later speculate Chief Dann had blamed Sunny for all of his troubles. She had caused his divorce and he'd taken mob money because of her. Leaving him had been the ultimate betrayal and he had killed her before he could let that happen.

Afterward the Chief had driven around the city for hours, clearly in an unstable mental state. The logical conclusion was that he must have decided there was still evidence pointing in his direction hidden at the beach house and was planning to have a look around for himself. He'd called Marge Clayton and asked if he could see the house. Chief Dann had been her other potential buyer. When he arrived at the beach house, only to find Pahoa, McGarrett, and the Five-O lab crew already there, he snapped. Whatever was going through his mind, they would never know. He grabbed the MP5 and got out of the car. He saw Danny Williams talking to Marge Clayton. He saw Pahoa's man Jimmy Swann behind the wheel of a black Lincoln while the yard was swarming with the forensic evidence team. Williams turned when the Chief slammed the door, saw the weapon, and drew his service revolver. He ordered the Chief to drop the weapon.

"I suppose he thought he didn't have anything left to lose," Danny had told the shooting team during questioning. "I heard him cock the weapon. I know what those nasty little guns can do. He was going to open fire and I couldn't let him do that, not with my wife and an unarmed civilian in the area. I couldn't. That's when I fired."

The officer from the shooting team had patted Danny on the back and told him he didn't have anything to worry about because Deputy Chief Sakai had already given his statement, backing up what Danny told him, and verifying he didn't have a choice.

"Go home, Williams," he'd said. "Get some rest. If I need anything else, it can wait until Monday."

Beverly was waiting for him in Steve's office. She looked pale and tired. He insisted she call her OB. Beverly got Dr. Sessoms' answering service and left a message. The doctor called back five minutes later, telling Danny to bring Beverly in.

"She's got twins in there and eight weeks to go. We want them to stay in as long as possible. I'll be waiting for her at the Tripler ER"

When they got there, the doctor took one look at Beverly and ordered her on bedrest for the next three days. Everything looked good, she'd told them, and she wanted it to stay that way. Beverly was admitted to the pre-labor ward and put to bed. Danny stayed with her, holding her hand and watching her sleep until the nurses threw him out at eleven.

Pahoa and Kini had given their statements to both the District Attorney and the state Attorney General. Pahoa once again reiterated that he was retiring and leaving the Islands. After a long argument, they all conceded that Pahoa would be safer away from Hawaii, but they really needed to know how to find him, just in case.

"I will find you," Pahoa said. "Put an ad in the Sunday London Times international edition in the personals column saying _Aloha Nui_ and with a phone number."

"Strange you should use that," Manicote said. "Queen Liliuokalani wrote the song and rumor has it the quilt she made while being held prisoner by the Americans has been found."

Pahoa gave Manicote a sharp look. "The Queen's Quilt has been found? By whom? Where is it? It belongs to the people of Hawaii, not some haole antiquer."

"I haven't the slightest clue," Manicote said. "I heard some of the Hawaiian officers talking about it. They say it's all over the Coconut Wireless. I'll have an HPD unit escort you to the Iliki. I suggest that when you get there, you stay put until we have everyone rounded up."

Pahoa and Kini left, with Pahoa glaring at everyone. Jimmy Swann called in a few favors and had people he trusted standing by.

McGarrett, Sandy, and Duke watched as they left.

"It's been an interesting day," Manicote said. "And productive. Now what?"

"Press conference to announce the arrests tomorrow," Steve said. "Arraignment on Monday. Put Dennis Elwood and his family in protective custody and appoint a new chief for HPD."

"I'm hoping it's Nick Sakai," Duke said.

"I don't know about you men," Sandy said, "but I'm beat. Gina and I are going out for drinks and then it's home and to bed for me. I'll see you on Monday unless something else crops up."

"Don't even say that," Duke said. "Surfs suppose to be kicking it tomorrow."

McGarrett smiled at that. "I'm spending the day with my girls. Don't call me unless another idiot wants to truck bomb the Palace."

They all left for home, McGarrett shutting out the lights as he left. He glanced at his watch. Eleven thirty-five. Tilda would be sleeping, and Maggie would be getting ready for bed. Maybe he could end his day the same way it started. He got into his SUV, smiling at the prospect.

As he turned off onto Kalamanu Drive, all he could see were flashing lights and cars parked on both sides of the street.

O-O-O-O-O

An HPD officer was directing traffic. He recognized officer Kanoa as powered down the window, trying to quash the panic he was feeling at the sight of HPD near his home.

"What's up, Kanoa?"

"Sir, you're not going to believe it!" Kanoa was grinning from ear to ear. McGarrett knew the kid had been on duty since early this morning and had to be pulling in serious overtime. "They found it! After all these years the Quilt has been found!"

"Kanoa," McGarrett said patiently. "Let's presume I've had a rough day and not in the mood for guessing games. What quilt?"

"Queen Liliuokalani's Quilt. The one she made after she was arrested. Those two crazy army sergeants found it! That's why all the traffic. The Islanders want to see the Quilt. It's been nonstop since the word got out, how I don't know. Guess it hit the Coconut Wireless. Sir, Everyone's here, including the governor and his wife but we've been making sure your gates aren't blocked and no one got your parking space."

"The governor's here?"

"Yes, sir, and his wife and almost everyone from the Bishop Museum. I volunteered to stay and direct traffic. This is the most exciting thing to happen to Hawaii in a long time." He waved McGarrett through.

True to Kanoa's word, the driveway was clear, and the governor's limo was parked at the curb. He pulled into the driveway, parking as close to Susan's Explorer as he could.

The crowd had thinned out considerably due to the lateness of the hour, but the textile department from the Bishop Museum and the Hawaiian Quilter's Guild were still there. The governor met him when he came in.

"Steve! You're here at last! After today, this state is going to need some good news, and darn me, if your wife and Mrs. Lukela haven't provided it! They found the Queen's Quilt!"

"Governor," Steve said as he took in the commotion going on in his home. The doorbell rang, one of the Guild members answered it, and ushered one more group of elderly Hawaiians into the sewing room to view the Quilt. "I have had a long and extremely difficult day. Everyone keeps going on about a quilt. What quilt?"

"It will be easier to show you than to tell you," the governor said. He led Steve into the sewing room.

The first thing he saw was a quilt laid out on Maggie's cutting table. The second thing he saw was his wife and foster daughter thanking the people for coming to see the quilt. Michael was sleeping in his playpen, oblivious of the bustle going on around him and being cooed over by Hawaiian grandmothers. Kono stood by Steve's desk, keeping an eye on things while grinning ear to ear.

"Hey, Brudah's and Sista's, the Big Man is in the house," he announced.

Tilda ran over and embraced her foster father. "Daddy, we found the quilt. It's been in Mom's stash since Michael was born!"

"Yes, but isn't it a little past your bedtime?" Steve asked, smiling at being called 'Daddy' by Tilda.

"Mom said I could stay up until they come for the quilt. They're sending an armored truck!"

"Well, if mom says so then it's fine with me, but church is still at nine tomorrow."

Maggie came over to kiss her husband. "About time you got home! We found it, Steve! The Queen's Quilt."

"Steve," the governor said. "I know you've had a long day, but this is the biggest and best thing to happen for this Island in years. The Queen's Quilt was started in Iolani Palace. The rooms Five-O uses as offices were once Queen Liliuokalani's bedroom and sitting room and where she was held under house arrest. This quilt is a direct link to Hawaii's last monarch. It was sold after she passed away, and the quilt and the record its owners were lost after the bombing at Pearl Harbor and for the longest time it was thought the quilt had been destroyed."

"How did it get on my wife's cutting table?" Steve asked.

Maggie smiled up at her husband. "This is the part no one is going to believe. Two years ago, on Friday the 13th to be exact, Susan and I were shopping at a thrift store called Sukie's in Chinatown. I found a box of vintage fabric and what looked like an old crazy quilt wrapped in plastic. Bought the whole thing for twenty-five bucks. That was also the same day Susan went into labor. First Michael was born, and then Lin passed away and Chin got killed and between babies and family and Cooper getting engaged, I kinda sorta forgot about the quilt. Then this morning Tilda found it."

"Would you believe it? The most sought-after artifact in Hawaiian history has spent the last two years in the closet between your home office and your wife's sewing room. When the ladies discovered what they had, they called my wife. She brought over the Textile Curator from the Bishop Museum, and according to Alisha, it's been nonstop ever since. Word went out on the Coconut Wireless and there are a lot of very happy people on Oahu tonight."

"Don't worry, honey," Maggie said. "Everyone will be clearing out soon. Mrs. Healani has ordered an armored truck to pick the quilt up and take it to the museum. It's going to need a lot of TLC and restoration. The truck should be here soon and then it will be rolled up on the pole you see there and zipped into a linen bag to protect it during transport. Then we can sell the house and buy a new one because this place is a mess and I'm too tired to clean it."

Steve was speechless.

"I told you she was a _Menehune_ the first time I met her," Kono said. "Them little people got some big magic in their blood."

"Kono, that's the best thing I have heard today. Maggie where'd Tilda run off too? I want my girls to show me what you've found."

Tilda appeared, bringing him a cup of cold punch. He drank it and absentmindedly handed the cup to the governor. Maggie gave him a pair of cotton gloves and led him to the cutting table.

They were admiring the quilt, Maggie pointing out the names and dates embroidered by Hawaii's last monarch when the doorbell rang.

This time Susan answered it. She opened the door to find Kapi and Kini Pahoa, flanked by two HPD officers and with Billy Swann providing the rear guard.

"May I come in? My daughter and I would like to see the quilt," Pahoa asked politely.

Susan knew Pahoa by reputation and recognized him from pictures published in the local papers accompanying stories about the Sovereignty Movement. Duke had told her Pahoa had been the one who gave up Rego for Chin's murder. Susan was a retired Army First Sergeant and she could spot bullshit across a crowded room with dim lighting. She wasn't getting that vibe from Pahoa.

"Wait here," she said. "I'll get Mr. McGarrett."

Pahoa nodded his ascent and waited patiently. Two minutes later, Steve appeared, frowning, and wondering what it was Pahoa really wanted.

"Mr. McGarrett," Pahoa said respectfully. "My daughter and I are leaving Honolulu in two days and if at all possible, we would like to see the Queen's Quilt before we leave."

McGarrett gave Pahoa a speculative look. There had been nothing, not one single thing, he could find to indict Pahoa on. Nothing. The man was an enigma. He had ran the _Kuma_ and had voluntarily given up information that could very well get him killed. He loved Hawaii, and its people and McGarrett knew that Pahoa's decision to leave the Islands had been a difficult and painful one, but one he was willing to make if it kept his daughter safe.

"Come on in," McGarrett said. He led Pahoa to the quilt and introduced him to Maggie and Tilda.

Pahoa got down on one knee to bring himself to Tilda's eye level.

"You are Chin Ho Kelly's little girl," he said.

Tilda looked up at him with those black almond shaped eyes.

"Yes, sir," she said solemnly. "My mother died, and my father was killed and now I live here."

"You are a very brave little girl. Like your father. He was a brave man, and honorable. Your foster father has found the people responsible for his death. They have been arrested and are now in jail where they will never be able to hurt anyone again. I am sorry your father was killed. If I had known, I would have prevented it from happening and for that, I have only regret."

Tilda had inherited her father's calm demeanor. She always thought before she spoke, especially to strangers. "Thank you, sir," was all she said as she hugged Pahoa.

Pahoa hugged back, remembering when his little girl was ten. When Tilda finally let go, he ruffled her hair and got back up.

"Thank you, Mr. Pahoa, for your words to my daughter," McGarrett said.

"She should know the truth," Pahoa said. He pulled on the cotton gloves Maggie had given him, tearing a seam in the process, as the gloves were too small for his larger hands. He touched the Queen's name, gently and reverently. And ran his fingers lightly over the quilt, barely grazing the surface. He was speaking to Kini in Hawaiian, pointing to the different embroidered motifs and explain what each of them meant.

There was a commotion at the front door as Duke Lukela and the men from the armored truck came in with Sandy and John Manicote following behind. He stopped short at the sight of Pahoa and Kini standing by the quilt and speaking to Mrs. Healani in Hawaiian.

"When I heard the quilt was here, I knew where I would find Susan and Michael. Anything I can do?" Duke asked.

"No," Steve said. "Everything is under control. Are those the men here for the quilt?"

"I believe so," he said.

"I will take my leave of you then," Pahoa said. "Mrs. McGarrett, Mrs. Lukela, on behalf of everyone with even one drop of Hawaiian blood in their veins, I thank you. _No keia la, no keia po, a mau loae hele me ka pu'olo."_ With that he and Kini left, accompanied by their bodyguards from HPD and Jimmy Swann.

"Duke, could you translate that for us haoles please?" Susan asked.

"'From this day, forevermore, you have made the world a better place.' Philosophy from Pahoa. Wasn't something I ever expected." Susan gave Duke a pair of cotton gloves. Every Hawaiian who had seen the quilt, much to Mrs. Healani's horror, wanted to touch it. Maggie gave them gloves and let them get on with it. Duke gently touched the center square of the quilt, a faraway look in his eyes.

"That makes about all of us," Kono said. "Boss, the folks from the museum are ready to take the Quilt, only we need to clear out, so they can work."

"I have food and drinks in the dining room," Maggie said. "As soon as they are done, it's off to bed for you, Little One."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Are you going to be all right?" she asked, concerned.

Tilda nodded. "I think what Mr. Pahoa said is going to make the bad dreams go away. He seems like a nice man."

The Five-O crew exchanged glances. Pahoa had never been accused of being nice by anyone trying to take on the _Kumu._ The one question on everyone's mind was exactly who was planning on taking over in Pahoa's absence.

That was a question for another day. McGarrett glanced at his watch and realized it was another day already. One that he was planning on spending with his family.

The _Kuma_ would have to wait.


End file.
